Sea Qrisl 


A Personal 
narrative 



Lekmann Hise 





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We talked with sailors who inspired us momentarily with wild tales of sea life 


Sea Qrist 


Personal Narrative 
of Five Months in the 
Merchant Marine 



A ROUSINQ SEA TALE 




Copyright, 1922 
By Lehmanh Hiset 
All Rights Reserved 


APR 


8 


1922 


Post Printing & Binding Co. 
Pasadena, Calif. 


©C1.A6G1353 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


“We talked with sailors who inspired us 

momentarily with wild tales of sea life” . Frontispiece 


“He gave the box a vicious kick!” . . . Page 96 

“I searched on hands and knees for the lost 

coin” “138 

“They done tole me not to cash no checks, 


233 


Contents 


I. The Restless Period 

II. Our First Storm at Sea 

III. Hardships of Sea Life, and Panama 

IV. Behind the Boilers, Saint Thomas 

V. The Chief Gets a Haircut 

VI. A Sailor’s Life in Glasgow 

VII. Antwerp Docks 

VIII. I Have an Adventure 

IX. We Break Down in Mid-Ocean 

X. Extended Boiler Work, Azores 
XL The Home Stretch 
















To 

Miss Agnes R. Burr 




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PREFACE 


ilMY PURPOSE in relating this experience 

^ in the Merchant Marine is to show the fel- 
low who craves sea life and adventure that these 
things are not all he may think them to be. My 
service extended over a period of five months 
and this little tale gives the actual daily life 
and work, neither softened or exaggerated, but 
told exactly as it occurred. I have endeavored 
to show not only the routine, discipline and as- 
sociates, but the effect of these on one’s char- 
acter and ideals. 

When taking the trip I had no thought of 
publishing an account of it. But upon telling 
some of my experiences I was urged to put the 
matter into readable form, as it was believed 
it would be helpful to those contemplating 
joining the Merchant Marine, and interesting 
to friends and relatives of those enlisting. 

I hesitated for some time to act upon the 
suggestion as I have done no literary work; 
but the thought that my experience might prove 
useful gave me courage and so I have writ- 
ten it. 



CHAPTER I 
The Restless Period 

T WAS on one of those rare warm days in 
^ early May that I found myself unable to 
concentrate upon my work. A slight breeze 
wafted delicate odors of spring through the 
open window, until at times I felt overcome by 
the sweetness of it. My whole being was fight- 
ing to conquer that inherent disease known as 
spring fever. Why should I be caged up like 
an animal from day to day, always cramped 
over a machine with no privilege of freedom? 
At such times the figures appeared to be 
blurred, checks and statements were just so 
much paper, and it was pleasant to relax, and 
think of things far away. I felt adynamic in 
the presence of this new power, and knew that 
I must succumb to it. 

The routine of my work, of the other clerks 
in the bank, of everything said and done, irri- 
tated me. If I could only commit some act 
that would stir my fellows, arouse them with 
an act of daring! I felt the impetus of some 


SEA GRIST 


unseen power bending my faculties to its will. 
I no longer cared whether my feelings became 
known to the bank officials; my mind ran riot 
with wild ideas of adventure. The azure blue 
sky reminded me of the sea on a calm day, and 
I could fitly imagine gentle waves lapping the 
sandy shores — and lo! I could see a ship in 
the form of a long white cloud! 

For at least a year my chum Bill and I had 
entertained the idea that we would work our 
way to Australia. How this idea ever came to 
us we never exactly knew, but we frequented 
the library to strengthen our knowledge of the 
subject. As Bill also worked in the same bank, 
it was generally known that we had a trip 
planned “to Australia, or somewhere.’' We 
talked a great deal of going, until it finally 
reached the point where we almost had to go 
somewhere to make our reputations good. 
Just how we were to go about it, we had no 
conceivable idea, until another enthusiast, who 
was a chum of mine, joined our ranks. It was 
from Gay that we first learned of the Merchant 
Marine, and all of the possibilities of “shipping 
out” from San Pedro. 

Bill fell in line with the idea so quickly that 
it almost frightened me. He gave notice to the 


Two 


SEA GRIST 


bank that he would stay a week until the new 
clerk was well broken in. As Bill was one posi- 
tion ahead of me, I was informed that I was to 
take his place. I did not know what plans he 
had made, and did not have the heart to dis- 
appoint him, so I handed in my card as well. 
This sudden turn of affairs left the bank in the 
lurch, giving us no opportunity to return if we 
failed to “ship out.” 

At this point my spirit of adventure lagged 
and I was indeed at a loss for a remedy. I had 
not only lost a good position, but I was not even 
sure of finding a lesser one. I realized that I 
had acted purely on impulse, and it distressed 
me not a little. The old saying, “Never make 
a change unless for the better,” lodged in my 
mind, making me sick at heart and disgusted 
with the world. However, I felt determined 
to see the thing through, inasmuch as every- 
one expected it of us. Our parents were the 
only ones who did not take the matter seri- 
ously. Perhaps my declining enthusiasm over 
the trip was their ground for thinking as they 
did. It was not until I came home one evening 
laden with bundles that they began to consider 
the question seriously. Gay had planned to 
go, and was making elaborate preparations. 


Three 


SEA GRIST 


Bill, even, had his bag packed, so there was 
nothing for me to do but to get ready. Only 
then did I realize that my ideas of “shipping 
out” were very vague. Perhaps I had boasted 
with the idea of never going to sea, resting con- 
fident that there would be no opportunities, or 
that some obstacle would block the way. It 
had reached the climax now, and could it be 
that I was afraid to actually carry out the 
plan? 

Previous to our leaving the bank we had 
been on two occasions to the Shipping Board 
at San Pedro, but each time had returned job- 
less, and somewhat discouraged. We talked 
with sailors who had inspired us momentarily 
with wild tales of sea life, but these had only 
added to our discouragement and perplexed 
feelings. However, everyone has his different 
moods ! The last day before leaving the bank 
I was attacked by new feelings. All of the 
fellows said good-bye to us, and wished us 
bon voyage, and we were not yet sure of 
our destination, or whether even we would go! 

At last the matter came to a head, through 
a sudden inspiration. I phoned Bill one eve- 
ning, and asked if he could leave early the next 
morning. Gay wished to leave that very night. 


Four 


SEA GRIST 


We were all packed, and our determination to 
go was greater than our fear for the conse- 
quences. The following morning at dawn, the 
three of us left for Wilmington docks, with 
that “do or die’' look and feeling. However, 
we left our bags and valises behind — we were 
philosophers enough for that. You may think 
it strange, but we were strange then, at least 
my parents thought so of me. Had we taken 
our luggage, we would have returned that day, 
and this tale would never have been written. 

The docks looked very uninviting, that 
gray misty morning. The water appeared 
heavy and glassy, and there was a stagnant 
odor of stale salt fish. There was not the usual 
bustle and confusion, nor did we hear the 
quick chugging of the winches unloading their 
cargoes. It was not yet eight o’clock. Our 
ideas of sea life were nil! We expected to 
find big muscled men, sweating over some 
giant task, directed by a hard-faced officer. 
Instead, everything was quiet, except for the 
gentle slap of the waves against the steel plates 
of nearby ships. We studied our next move 
carefully. Although the principle of inhibition 
played with our imagination, we fought it back 
bravely. However, our courage rose with the 


Five 


SEA GRIST 


lifting mist, and soon we found ourselves at 
the stairway of the Shipping Board office, in 
San Pedro. The wee small voice seemed to 
say: “Mount those stairs, fellows, and you 
will remember it for life.” That is just the 
way we felt about it. Our determination had 
been so real to us that we were practically cer- 
tain of finding a ship. 

Therefore the beating of three hearts quick- 
ened slightly as their owners lagged into the 
small, but well-furnished office of O. Wicker- 
shein. Standing behind a high counter stood 
a pale-faced young fellow, wearing a green 
eyeshade. He looked up as we entered, but 
paid no further attention to us. After waiting 
some time, a gruff bewhiskered old gentleman 
looked out from a private office and told us to 
“come in.” He was extremely brief and came 
directly to the point, but seemed to have quite 
an understanding of fellows of our age. He 
was sitting at a large desk writing, so we stood 
behind him, trying not to notice what he was 
writing. Suddenly he whirled around and 
faced us. Unconsciously we stepped back a 
little. He gave each of us a brief examination 
before he spoke. “Want to ship out, eh?” 
Then he looked at us again, with his eyes half 


Six 


SEA GRIST 


squinted. None of us spoke; we stood motion- 
less, and took it for granted that he knew we 
wished to ship out. “Haven’t even been in 
the Hooligan Navy? Just land lubbers,” 
was his next observation. Whatever the 
“Hooligan Navy” was we had not been in it, 
we were sure of that. “Sorry, but I can’t do 
anything for you.” With this he swung around, 
and began writing again. We looked at one 
another, with rather wasted, vacant expres- 
sions. Gay scowled, and was about to speak, 
but Bill jerked his head toward the door, and 
we filed into the outer office. We had not said 
a word. There were three or four others wait- 
ing their turn, so we stopped to talk with them. 
They all had had experience aboard ship, in 
one line and another, so we were almost dis- 
couraged at our prospects. An hour later we 
returned to the foot of the stairs. We had 
walked about the town, and also had made up 
our minds for another interview. No longer 
did we heed the wee small voice, as naught had 
come of it; it was now our theory that luck was 
against us, but we knew that the unexpected 
could happen. Just at this point, when we were 
most blue, our determination most blunted. 




SEA GRIST 


and our hopes lowest, something happened 
which seemed to change the very atmosphere. 

We were about to ascend the stairs, when 
we noticed the old gentleman himself coming 
down. As the stairway was narrow, we stood 
by in order to let him pass. Just before he 
gained the entrance he turned back, and walk- 
ing up to Bill, who was nearest, placed his 
hand on his arm. He did not speak for a mo- 
ment, but looked at each of us in turn, some- 
what as he had an hour previous. We did not 
know what to make of this turn of affairs, so 
kept silent in order to hear what the old man 
had to say for himself. Although he spoke in 
a rough tone we realized at once, that his in- 
tentions were kindly toward us. He may have 
noticed, too, our keen disappointment. “Boys,” 
he began, laying his other hand on my shoul- 
der, and looking at Gay, “I am willing to take 
a chance that you have all had experience 
aboard ship. The Havilah leaves this after- 
noon at three-thirty for Glasgow, Scotland. 
Her Skipper just phoned me for two ‘wipers.’ 
The Hika leaves next Tuesday for Yokohama, 
and the Skipper wants one ordinary seaman. 
If it looks good come back in half an hour, and 
sign up.” 


Eight 


SEA GRIST 


He had been brief, and to the point, and 
we had taken in every word. We could 
scarcely believe that at last opportunity was 
knocking at our door. After he had left we 
shook hands all around, then the realization 
came that we would have to split our ranks. It 
was not a matter of a toss up, it was a serious 
question that confronted us. I had chummed 
with Gay for a number of years ; in fact we had 
gone through the eighth grade together. Bill 
had not known Gay until I had introduced 
them, perhaps a month previous, but I had 
known Bill in high school and we had worked 
together in the bank. As I knew them both so 
well, I realized that I would not be the one to 
take the single job. I hated to think of either 
of them taking it, so suggested that we throw 
up the whole deal, and wait until we could all 
ship together. 

“Impossible!” Gay was getting emphatic, 
so Bill and I listened. “When do you suppose 
that we will get an opportunity like this again ? 
Never! This is our one and only chance. Tm 
going to join the Hooligan Navy, and you fel- 
lows can do whatever you please.” 

It was bravely done, and he had met the 
situation squarely. I turned to Bill, evidently 


Nine 


SEA GRIST 


with a questioning look, as he replied to Gay, 
“Sorry, old man, we sure hate to do it, but it 
is as you say, our only chance.” Inside of 
half an hour Bill and I had signed the neces- 
sary papers, and were on our way to see the 
Chief Engineer, down at the doctor’s office in 
the next block. There we met a stubby middle- 
aged man, with a few week’s growth of beard 
on his chin, who answered to his description. 
He gave us a disfavoring look, and sent us to 
a photograph gallery to get pictures for our 
passports. 

All of this took time, and it was then nearly 
noon. Our luggage was forty miles distant, 
and we had neglected to phone ! It would take 
at least two hours for our parents to come down 
by machine, even if we could reach them right 
away. We were fortunate, however, in find- 
ing my mother, and needless to say she was 
much surprised to think that I had really 
“signed on.” The next two hours caused more 
suspense, I believe, than I ever hope to expe- 
rience again. We sat there on the curb, where 
the main boulevard makes its entrance into the 
city, dinnerless, and watching every machine 
coming around the distant curve. It seemed 
that each one was strikingly familar, until it 


Ten 


SEA GRIST 


drew near. Our anxiety grew with the min- 
utes, and in our imagination countless things 
occurred that would prevent their coming at 
all. Our passports had not yet been completed, 
and that would take time, and the ship lay at 
anchor at least three miles away! Without a 
doubt we were becoming nervous, wondering 
just what we had let ourselves in for. For all 
we knew the Shipping Board might have taken 
advantage of us, but we were determined to 
stick it out, no matter what the cost might be. 
In the meantime we had seen Gay, and learned 
that he had accepted the position of ordinary 
seaman, on the “Hika.’’ He would not leave 
for three days. Just as we had given up hope 
a familiar shape loomed up, almost beside us. 
It seems that when one is eagerly expecting 
something with a wary watchfulness, it never 
materializes, but as soon as the attention is di- 
verted, that which was expected comes unbid- 
den ! As is always the case, matters drag when 
one is in a hurry. Our ship was anchored at 
the end of the breakwater, taking on a supply 
of oil, and would leave when her tanks were 
pumped full. Of course our parents having 
left in such a hurry had neglected to have 
lunch, and that would take time. So, after 


Eleven 


SEA GRIST 


many minor delays, and another hour of sus- 
pense, our papers were drawn up, signed and 
sworn to, even our thumb prints taken! All 
of this happened in the Custom House. We 
now owed our services to the United States 
and were in their direct employ. 

The last of the red tape having been wound 
up, we fully expected that our agitated nerves 
would become quieted, but no such good for- 
tune. The official in the Custom House merely 
mentioned to one of the clerks that the Captain 
of our ship would be in soon for his last orders 
before leaving. Our mothers heard this, and 
insisted on meeting him. Our eagerness to be 
off was more easily suppressed now that we 
knew the ship could not leave without her Cap- 
tain. But a new proposition confronted us, 
and that was the attitude that our parents 
would take toward the Skipper on our behalf. 
It is somewhat the same feeling that is expe- 
rienced by the boy, small or large, who looks 
up suddenly from his arithmetic book, and 
finds one or both of his parents conversing with 
the teacher! To be frank. Bill and 1 did not 
appreciate our homes and parents — at the mo- 
ment, and we were anxious to get away as soon 
as possible. The official in charge, wearing 


Twelve 


SEA GRIST 


the same lodge emblem as my father, under- 
took to give us a little advice about women in 
foreign ports. On looking back I realize that 
he viewed us as inexperienced, and practically 
helpless in a foreign port, or he would not have 
given us the advice that he did. It did not soak 
in at the time, however, as we knew about all 
there was to know about such things — as we 
then thought. Our moods were not responsible 
for our thoughts that day! Naturally our 
parents were excited, and asked many foolish 
questions, which embarrassed us, to say the 
least, for we wished to make as good an im- 
pression upon the Skipper as possible, and that 
was the only thing that counted. In truth we 
were very anxious to get aboard, and get away 
from — well — land! The parting was neither 
sad nor strained on our part! I speak for 
Bill too, as we were boon companions the 
whole trip through. Our motto was “Make it 
snappy.” When a fellow is that age there is 
a certain unseen force ever pushing him for- 
ward, making him do things that later on in 
life, and in a more meditative mood, he would 
not even consider. Once an idea is formed it 
simply must be carried through; there is a will 
there that will not be opposed. These moods 


Thirteen 


SEA GRIST 


seem to vary, in many instances according to 
environment. 

The saint and the sinner do not drink from 
the same cup; neither does the fountain give 
forth both sweet and bitter water. The finer 
and more highly developed mind is the result 
of conscious toil, and bereavement. It is a 
succession of thoughts surrounded by beauty. 
Every mental image is a masterpiece, the mind 
not reasoning in physical terms, but making 
the physical synonymous with the metaphys- 
ical — every image a clearcut picture, every 
thought a highly developed ideal, and every 
ideal a characterization of spiritual life. The 
aims and tendencies lean toward degeneracy 
when there is no ideal, and ideals are created 
from the best that exists in our particular en- 
vironment. Therefore if our environment, in- 
cluding our associates, is not the best, we form 
unconsciously that which makes us what we 
should not be. Perhaps by this simple reason- 
ing we come to see just why fellows of our age 
have peculiar whims and ideas. Imagination 
also forms a large part in this unconscious 
process. Even a person with a very strong will 
is subject to change his ideals, through contin- 
uous environment, be it good or bad. Thus we 


Fourteen 


SEA GRIST 


see a great truth demonstrated here. Had Bill 
and I been with the same associates a few 
months longer, our ideals would have been 
bound to drop, and we cannot tell yet just how 
far they have dropped — if at all! But all of 
this is of small consequence here. 

It was some fifteen minutes walk from land 
to the end of the breakwater, where the Havi- 
lah was anchored. This breakwater is perhaps 
quite similar to hundreds of others, but I be- 
lieve much worse. It is composed of huge 
jagged pieces of granite, with a narrow plank 
walk, where it is possible to place the planks 
withut tipping too badly. Bill’s valise weighed 
fully sixty pounds, and mine was no lighter. 
My father, brother, and the “Dear Captain” 
as our mothers called him, went on ahead, 
leaving us to struggle along as best we were 
able, and we felt that we had done a full day’s 
labor when we had reached the end. A snappy 
farewell, and we climbed aboard, really aboard 
the ship we were to sail on 1 


Fifteen 


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CHAPTER II 
Our First Storm at Sea 

^NYONE who has not been aboard a seago- 
ing freighter may appreciate a little sketch 
of the even tenor of this life. There are two de- 
partments aboard ship. The Engine Depart- 
ment, supervised by the Chief Engineer, and 
the Deck Department, which is managed by 
the Skipper. Each of these officials has prac- 
tically as much authority as the other, but, of 
course, the Skipper is directly responsible for 
the safety of the ship. Although there is quite 
a friendly feeling between these two factions, 
there is always a certain amount of competi- 
tion. The three Assistant Engineers, First, 
Second and Third, each stand two four hour 
watches out of every twenty-four. The three 
Mates do likewise, on the bridge. The entire 
ship is run by scheduled four hour watches. 
Those relieving, have to be on hand five min- 
utes before the hour. The First Assistant is 
held accountable for everything in the engine- 
room, and fire-room, as the Chief very seldom 


Seventeen 


SEA GRIST 


goes below on many ships. The Skipper also 
has it comparatively easy, as he does not stand 
a watch unless his ship is in danger. The 
Mates stand every watch, each responsible for 
a particular line of work; for instance, the 
Third Mate has charge of the deck hands on 
entering and leaving port. The First Mate lays 
out the work to the Boatswain, who in turn ful- 
fills the orders by making his men do about as 
he pleases. He is usually a big disagreeable 
fellow of foreign birth, earning his position 
purely by his experience and ability to handle 
the men. 

Most ships of this type are separated into 
three living quarters, forward forecastle, amid- 
ships, and aft forecastle. All of the officers 
and petty officers eat and sleep amidships, with 
the exception of the chips (ship’s carpenter) 
and boatswain, who bunk forward with the or- 
dinary seamen, and mess-boys. The officers 
are given a spacious dining saloon, draped and 
well cushioned, while the petty officers have to 
content themselves with an oilcloth table. The 
officers are the privileged species who are sup- 
posed to make the wheels go round, therefore 
they rate the best accommodations. The three 


Eighteen 


SEA GRIST 


wipers and three firemen bunk aft in the star- 
board forecastle (commonly called fok’sl) 
and the A B’s (able bodied seamen) bunk op- 
posite in the port fok’sl. There is a good 
sized mess-room between, boasting two long 
anchored tables, and a good serving equip- 
ment. It will accommodate about twenty men. 
There are many different types of freighters, as 
we shall see a little later, but the most common 
is the standard type built by the Emergency 
Fleet Corporation, made entirely of steel. 
During the world war these ships were con- 
structed in such large numbers and so hur- 
riedly, that it is a wonder they passed by the 
inspectors. I remember while we were unload- 
ing cargo in Glasgow, the deck plates around 
the winches aft jarred loose, and for a time it 
was rumored that our ship was condemned, 
although this was only her second trip. As all 
ships are gauged by tonnage, the Havilah was 
in the ten thousand ton class, but ninety-six 
hundred was her capacity. She measured four 
hundred and sixteen feet, from bow to stern, 
and carried a crew of forty-five. The duty of 
the wipers aboard any ship is to keep the en- 
gine-room in spick and span order, doing the 


Nineteen 


SEA GRIST 


brass work, paint work, and cleaning the floor- 
plates. It is the dirtiest and worst job on the 
ship. Being entirely ignorant of this we did 
not know what we were in for. I had sup- 
posed that we would make the rounds with a 
rag and wipe up the oil and grease. If the 
First Assistant happened to be a crank he cer- 
tainly could make life miserable for everyone 
below. Unlike the rest of the Black Gang the 
wipers do not stand a watch, but work from 
eight a. m. until five p. m., having an hour at 
noon, also their Saturday afternoons and Sun- 
days, standing a two-hour watch Sunday after- 
noon. Summing up the job, it is just a lot of 
miscellaneous tasks, from fitting steam flanges, 
to being valet to the Chief. 

I shall never forget that first day aboard. 
Everything was so strange and unfamiliar! 
Grimy hands relieved Bill and me of our lug- 
gage, as soon as we came aboard, and we were 
shown directly to our sleeping quarters. There 
were six bunks, and we were fortunate in get- 
ting the two lower ones. Such bunks as they 
were! Two horizontal pieces of piping with a 
spring and mattress, with covers. We were 
satisfied, however, as it was much better than 
we had expected. We were assigned small 


Twenty 


SEA GRIST 


chests, or lockers, and proceeded immediately 
to unpack. It all seemed so incredible to me 
as I sat on my bunk trying to realize my posi- 
tion. Men were coming in and out, some cuss- 
ing terribly, at what I thought nothing at all. 
Bill and I had early learned the use of the word 
damn, but such phrases as were added to that 
word served as an actual shock to our tender 
ears. 

We did not sail that afternoon, as we had 
expected. It was two-thirty the next after- 
noon before we finally got under way. Al- 
though the crew seemed in no apparent hurry 
to leave, we were getting anxious to feel the 
throb of those great engines, and hear the 
ceaseless churning of the propeller. With our 
clothes safely put away under lock and key, 
we felt free to explore the ship before supper 
time. Our duties being in the engine-room we 
naturally proceeded amidships, purchased our 
grease caps, and stood looking down into the 
depths below. It looked complicated, to say 
the least of it. Between the iron stairway that 
zig-zagged to the floor plates, we could make 
out the engineer’s platform, raised about three 
feet from the general floor level. Near the 
throttle stood shining faces of numerous 


Twenty-( 


SEA GRIST 


gauges and meters, which looked up at us in a 
staring fashion, and cast weird reflections on 
the other machinery. We crept cautiously 
down the ladders to investigate further the 
many mysteries that confronted us. The en- 
gine-room is more or less similar to an inverted 
funnel, looking down from the top nothing can 
be seen except what is directly beneath. 

Contrary to what I had expected, the men 
took little or no notice of us at chow that night. 
We sat at the firemen’s table, and the service 
that we had from two mess-boys was amazing. 
We ate dishes (or rather what was in the 
dishes) that we never before had even imag- 
ined. The food was not as good as we were 
accustomed to having at home, but it was so 
much better than we had expected, that we 
marveled at it. I had read in many sea 
stories that the menu consisted mainly of dried 
fish, hard tack and water, and I at once con- 
gratulated myself. It is hard for me now to 
recall the peculiar ideas that I had so often en- 
tertained before joining the Merchant Marine. 
Conditions were so different that I began to 
get real enthusiastic about the trip. 

That evening the entire Black Gang (all 
men working below) went ashore, which left 


Twenty-two 


SEA GRIST 


US to meditate by ourselves. We welcomed 
the opportunity to write letters home about our 
quarters, and grub, but were interrupted by the 
First Assistant Engineer. We did not know 
who he was, so paid little attention, answering 
with a brief “y^s” or “no,” and continuing our 
writing. Bill had been sprawled out on his 
bunk in a writing position, when I had last 
looked up, but the next time I glanced at him 
he was up at attention. He had, fortunately 
for us both, noticed the little one on the 
First’s cap. It would not have gone hard with 
us, but we soon learned that to be “in Dutch” 
with the First was no joke. He was a small 
wiry man, perhaps not more than five feet 
seven in height, and carried himself somewhat 
in the manner of a boxer walking up to meet 
his opponent. His hair was a light red, but 
instead of having a stubble beard and a leath- 
ery complexion, as might be expected, his skin 
was very fair, and he was clean shaven. He 
had not yet reached his thirties, I believe. He 
had a pleasing manner, and when he smiled he 
showed gold, but that smile covered a very 
exacting disposition, as we found out later. 
We also learned that he slung a “wicked 
sledge” on the boiler repair work. 


Twenty-three 


SEA GRIST 


At any rate he appointed me store-room 
keeper of the engine-room, and gave me keys 
to lockers in the “shaft alley,” on the dynamo 
platform and store-room. I tried to refuse the 
job, but it was no use, it was simply thrust 
upon me. My knowledge of tools and the 
lathe in the store-room was nil, but he would 
not listen to me. Bill took my plight seriously, 
and added his objections to mine, as he knew 
my feelings, but it was all of no avail. The 
sense of my responsibility began to haunt me. 
The First had taken me for an experienced me- 
chanic, and I scarcely knew the dynamos from 
the bilge pump ! My God! What would they 
do to me at sea when they found out! 

I was thankful that the Gang was ashore 
that night, as I had one big problem to think 
about! Also, I wished to don my pajamas 
without spectators. I remember very dis- 
tinctly that they were of thin flannel, with dis- 
tinguished black and white checks, resembling 
very much the uniform adopted by the “Stone 
Breakers’ Union.” It was indeed fortunate 
that liquor was not plentiful in ’Pedro, or it 
might have gone hard with us that first night. 
The Gang began to return shortly after mid- 
night. The first thing that I remember upon 


Twenty-four 


SEA GRIST 


awakening was the sound of a fire bell ringing 
close by. Then, “All out on deck, boys, for 
boat drill.” My first thought was fire, and the 
next was run. I acted promptly on the lat- 
ter. We sprang up the ladder to the boat 
deck, in the quickest way possible. I say we, 
because Bill came along, too. We did not get 
wise to ourselves until a little later, when one 
of the firemen came sneaking up with the alarm 
clock still ringing. We learned a valuable les- 
son by this, and at times did not obey actual 
orders for fear of their impractical origin. 

Our first day at work was not a pleasant 
one. To start the day off, a quantity of heavy 
black oil was pumped on the deck from the 
port and starboard overflow pipes, and it was 
our duty to cover it with sawdust, mix the two 
thoroughly and shovel it overboard. We were 
not exactly skilful with our tools, and the First 
was not a bit backward in telling us. Our soft 
muscles began to tire, but our spirit was daunt- 
less and unflinching. We were real sailors 
now! We realized the fact more and more 
when we felt the slow revolving of the turbines, 
and heard the bells of the telegraph in the en- 
gine-room. (The telegraph is an instrument 
operated from the wheel-house, instructing the 


Twenty- five 


SEA GRIST 


engineer below how to govern the throttle). 
The hawsers were slipped off the bollards on 
the oil dock, and we slowly swung out into the 
harbor, under our own steam. I did not have 
time to feel a small lump come into my throat. 
I was too busy watching the break-water, the 
old familiar light house, the familiar buildings, 
and last of all the Sierra Madre mountains, 
drop behind the level skyline. My new duties 
carried me all over the ship, but for the time 
being I found little pleasure in my work. To 
be frank, I experienced stomach trouble, and 
went about my work with head bowed, and 
with considerable lack of spirit. When one is 
seasick and compelled to work, he does not 
usually care in what shape or manner the work 
is done. This state of affairs lasted only a day 
or two, luckily, not only for me but for the 
ship. I had been assigned regular duties. The 
first thing I did when I “turned to” at eight 
a. m. was to fill the three watch tanks. 1 usu- 
ally made this task last about fifteen minutes. 
The dynamo platform, which was situated be- 
tween the floor-plates and the deck, had to 
be kept clean from oil and dirt. I usually made 
this last ten minutes, although it was fully an 
hour’s work. I was unaccustomed to the heat, 


Twenty-six 


SEA GRIST 


and would take a good sized “blow” at every 
opportunity. The weather was cool on deck, 
but below it was scarcely tolerable for us, al- 
though I would go on deck, and turn the ven- 
tilators to the breeze, whether they had been 
so before or not. What a peculiar feeling I ex- 
perienced when the First would saunter near 
and gaze questioningly at my movements, es- 
pecially after the third or fourth time on deck 
in one morning. At times while below I felt 
that I could not stand it another minute, and 
with a nauseously exhausted feeling would 
stumble up the ladder for a breath of clean air. 
The afternoon, which always seemed the long- 
est part of the day, I spent shining the brass 
work and cleaning the ever dirty floor-plates. 

There was something about this new life, 
however, that greatly appealed to me, as much 
as I hated it. My manhood certainly must 
have asserted itself, as I made up my mind that 
I would “carry on” if it killed me. My ship- 
mates made great sport of me, when I would 
go on deck for a meal, shirtless, with great 
beads of perspiration on my chest and back, 
and my dungarees wet and dripping with dirty 
sweat. As we went farther south, approach- 
ing the lower part of the Mexican Coast, a new 


Twenty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


act was added to my little daily performance. 
Without any jesting, I have often poured at 
least a half cup of dirty sweat from each of my 
heavy oil soaked shoes, and to change socks at 
each performance was worse than useless. 
Nevertheless, I was determined to see the thing 
through, although at time I had made up my 
mind to desert at the first port. It was an effort 
to keep thoughts of home out of my conscious- 
ness and realize my position, or rather job, as 
it was. As time went by I actually began to 
like the smell of oil — hot oil and grease, which 
haunts every engine-room. My soft hands, 
which had seldom done a full day’s manual 
labor at hard work, were gradually being 
toughened, although they pained me severely 
the first few days, when boiler compound, and 
salt, began to work into the blisters and 
scratches. 

I carried on my duties now with an ease 
which surprised me. As my surroundings be- 
came more familiar, and I learned the places 
of tools and equipment, and uses of the differ- 
ent pumps, I actually began to enjoy my work. 
To be sure the weather grew warmer each day, 
as we approached Panama, but I seemed to 
thrive in it, and I began to take as much in- 


Twenty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


terest in the engine-room as the Chief himself 
did. As I have mentioned, the Chief very sel- 
dom came below, but he was responsible, and 
although I remained ignorant of the use of 
most of the machinery, I always had the feel- 
ing that I, in a small way, was also responsible. 
Every young fellow probably has this feeling 
when he is new at a job. He works conscien- 
tiously, and endeavors to gain the confidence 
of his superiors, by showing that he has the in- 
terest of his work at heart. It is not so with 
older employes, it seems. The firemen aboard, 
and in fact every member of the Black Gang, 
did no more work than was absolutely neces- 
sary. One of the firemen said to me one day, 
in an aggravating manner, “You fool, you’ll 
work yourself to death.” This lodged in my 
mind for some time, and at first it appeared as 
though he were jealous of my ambition. I had 
heard of firemen being made to swap jobs with 
the wipers, for various reasons, but I did not 
fear for him. 

I was too willing to obey orders from any- 
one, no matter what rank or authority, for the 
reason that I had not learned the officers from 
the men. I well remember the second day 
aboard. One of the water-tenders ordered me 


Twenty-nil 


SEA GRIST 


to follow him on deck to carry oil to the fan- 
engine. Needless to say the First ordered me 
below directly with added duty, much to the 
joy of the one who had imposed on me. There 
was one difficulty, however, that bothered me 
more than any other. I had had trouble with 
my eyes before I left home, and was forced to 
wear glasses. I could not leave them off for 
any length of time without severe strain, and 
you can realize (if you have ever worn 
glasses) how quite impossible it is to wear 
them where there is steam. Had it not been for 
this my spirits would have been high. It was 
no joke working around machinery that looked 
blurred, as I soon found out, but I endured it 
and made the best of it. My most strenuous 
efforts were spent on shining the floor-plates, 
which were thin pieces of slightly corrugated 
steel. This steel is not corrugated as the tin 
which serves as a roof, but has small alternat- 
ing ridges, so that one will not slip. If these 
are not cleaned each day, dirt and grease col- 
lect between the ridges, which makes it almost 
impossible to stand in a heavy sea. These 
plates serve as paths between the different 
pumps, including the circulator, turbine, and in 
fact all machinery, so that there is no direct 


Thirty 


SEA GRIST 


Opening to the bilges beneath. I did not have 
the slightest idea how to go about cleaning 
them, consequently it took me almost the entire 
afternoon to clean a few square feet with stick 
and rags. Had I been told that I must clean 
the port half every afternoon between four and 
five, I should have dropped from the sheer 
thought of it. However, I did it later on, after 
learning the correct method. 

Bill and I made many acquaintances 
aboard. They seemed to spring up like mush- 
rooms over night. A Greek sailor, a huge fel- 
low, chief cook in the galley, hailed us at every 
opportunity, ever afraid that some wild pranks 
would be played on us, at our expense. It was 
always “Who sent you after dat?” or “Vy wot 
reason do you do dat?’' We were wary, and 
tried to follow only the orders given us by the 
Chief and the First. Once, however. Bill spent 
the entire morning looking for the tin stretch- 
ers, and a left-hand monkey wrench. Finding 
there were no such tools, he vowed that he 
would never taken orders unless given direct 
by word of mouth from the First. 

Before we had been at sea three days we 
experienced our first fire drill. We were below 
at the time working industriously on the floor- 


Thirty-( 


SEA GRIST 


plates, to get them polished before the First 
came down on his four to eight watch. He was 
very particular, but usually paid no attention 
to us at the time, unless he found us loafing. 
If we were about finished, we sat under the 
ventilator, behind the turbine, and watched un- 
til we saw him start down the grating. Then 
with great effort we had a fine sweat worked 
up, and the work finished by the time he 
reached the platform. 

On this particular afternoon we were late 
in getting our work started. Bill was in the 
bunker room getting rags and mops. I was 
on the dynamo platform drawing kerosene, 
when we heard two short blasts from the 
wheel house. It startled me, as I knew that we 
should have been on deck by our hydrant at 
three forty-five. Bill was nearer the top side 
than I, and escaped down the port alley-way 
just as the First Mate looked down into the 
engine-room. 1 was making time up the last 
grating, and did not see him until I was pulled 
forward by a large hairy hand and thrust into 
the alley- way with a ‘‘Who the Hell do ye 
think ye are, to hold up the fire like this?” 

My hydrant had been turned on, and the 
fifty feet of hose was leaking a heavy stream in 


Thirty -two 


SEA GRIST 


miscellaneous directions. Drenched com- 
pletely, I thrust it over the side, much to the 
relief of other hosemen nearby. After the 
blast of four longer whistles had died away, 
the fire pump below had been stopped, and all 
rushed to the boat-deck for boat drill. There 
were eleven men assigned to my boat, and I 
could not help but wonder how we should get 
along together, in an open boat with no land in 
sight. The housing was slipped off the davits, 
and with four men at the handle we put our 
boat over the side. At three blasts we hauled 
it back, snapped the clamps, and laced up the 
housing. 

Unfortunately, my fingers were slow in do- 
ing such unaccustomed tasks, and conse- 
quently I was the last to finish. When I looked 
up no one was around, and coming out from 
behind the boat I saw the crew standing around 
the First Mate for roll call. They stood on the 
windward side of the stack, and I approached 
just in time to hear myself slated absent. The 
men went back to their work, and I stood wait- 
ing, as the Mate was talking to an AB. When 
he was through he turned with a “Well?” I 
tried to give my reasons for being late at roll 
call, but my voice was weak, and he scarcely 


Thirty-three 


SEA GRIST 


heard. I thought at the time that he was a 
crab, and always sore about something; I took 
everyone at his face value, and indeed he had a 
hard face. His square weather beaten jaws 
shone by the bright reflection of the water, and 
his pale blue eyes puffed out at me under 
shrewdly puckered eyebrows. He chuckled 
suddenly, as he turned on his heel and made 
for the wheel house. All this took time, and 
when I reached the engine-room I could see 
that the First was sore clear through. The 
floor-plates were not nearly finished, and the 
rag-can had not yet been hauled on deck. It 
seemed that numerous things had been left 
undone. He thought that I had stayed on 
deck to take a good ‘‘blow,” so I was in for 
more explaining. He did not look at me as I 
ran down the ladder past the platform. I 
seized the first mop in sight, and began to mop 
furiously behind the H. P. (high pressure en- 
gine), which was in plain sight from the plat- 
form. 

Here was where I had made a mistake. 
Had I come down calmly and resumed my un- 
finished work, all would have been well. But 
hurrying as I did, it looked as though I had 
been loafing on the “top side.” I had early 


Thirty-four 


SEA GRIST 


learned that when he wanted me, and was sore 
about something, he would give a shrill 
whistle, and expect me to run right up to the 
platform. I finished the floor-plates behind the 
H. P., my ears cocked for the dreaded whistle. 
When I looked up he was standing there, his 
face drawn, and his lips set, waiting to catch 
my eye. His head ducked toward the plat- 
form, so I dropped my mop “muy pronto.” He 
was standing with one hand on the throttle, 
looking at his chart when I came up. He gave 
no sign that I was there, so I waited. Present- 
ly he turned. It seemed that his hazel eyes 
would pierce a piece of steel, so I avoided his 
gaze. 

“Say, Kid,” he said, quietly, “You want to 
get wise to yourself. Get the Hell down there, 
and let Jamieson show you how to run that 
mop.” The last was added with much em- 
phasis. He gave a shrill whistle, and Jamie- 
son, the third wiper, came striding out of the 
“shaft alley.” He was five years my senior, 
and had had a good bit of engine-room experi- 
ence. He was all right on deck, but to work 
with he was the most disagreeable fellow I 
could think of. “Where in the Devil have you 
been?” the First shot out, glaring at him. If 


Thirty- five 


SEA GRIST 


there was anybody Jim feared worse than the 
First, he would have to be an immortal! 
“Here, take that mop away from the kid, and 
show him how to use it/’ Jim grabbed the mop 
from my hand, and I stood by, sheepishly 
watching him work up a fearful sweat. He 
was right in his glory if he could show anyone 
anything that he did not know. He began to 
lag shortly, so he pushed the mop into my 
hand, and stood by instructing me how to use 
it. I noticed that he looked at the First every 
once in a while to see what kind of an impres- 
sion he was making. 

It came around quitting time before we 
knew it, and we were not nearly finished. The 
First had cooled down somewhat, and seemed 
almost normal when he jerked his head up to- 
ward the topside ladder. As I passed him I 
thought I saw a twinkle in his eye, from the 
afternoon amusement. I could never quite 
make him out, so took him seriously at all 
times. I had my suspicious, however, that he 
had a good sense of humor, but wore a hard 
face to keep law and order in the engine-room. 

How good it did seem after I had dragged 
myself over the last step, and fairly absorbed 
the almost tangible aroma of steaks and coffee. 


Thirty-sij 


SEA GRIST 


which drifted through the alley-way! Once 
outside in the late afternoon sunshine I saw 
the far distant coast of Lower California, and 
a pang of homesickness swept over me. I be- 
gan to think of home, as I had never thought 
of it before. How little I had appreciated all 
the comforts! Why was it, I thought, that I 
had been so foolish as to leave home? Every 
time I thought of going down to work in the 
engine-room a peculiar feeling came over me. 
It was getting a little warmer each day, and 
each day it seemed harder. On this afternoon 
I was dripping with sweat. What a comfort- 
able feeling it was to sit there and relax! 

Bill came up and dropped down beside me, 
I think he must have felt somewhat as I did, 
as he did not talk. We had been out about six 
days, and were not fully used to the motion 
of the ship. Although we were not seasick, 
there was that unsteadiness of the legs which 
comes after a long sickness. It is the popular 
theory that sea-sickness is caused by the 
changed orienting of the body, and the position 
assumed by the head is of the greatest import- 
ance, as it is dependent upon the changes, in 
pressure of the fluids within the ear canals. 
These we found began to gradually adjust 


Thirty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


themselves, after a few days of ship motion. 
But in the meantime, while this adjustment 
was taking place, we ate but little, and turned 
in at an early hour. 

Our first week having passed, we began to 
realize that we were fast approaching the 
Tropics. The weather grew steadily warmer, 
and occasionally we would run across large 
schools of porpoises, or a great sea turtle float- 
ing lazily, with a bird or two perched upon 
his broad back. One evening, in particular, 
we ran across one of the largest school of por- 
poises in history; literally thousands of them, 
diving and splashing in the late afternoon sun- 
light. There were several in a group, each 
following the other in a short series of dives, in 
and out of the water, at great speed, somewhat 
as a seamstress weaves her needle in and out 
of a fabric. Occasionally a very large one, cut 
off from the rest, would leap into the air, from 
four to six feet, turning and twisting his huge 
black body for a moment, until it disappeared 
beneath the water. All hands off watch, came 
on deck for this unusual sight, and much spec- 
ulation was made as to the reason for their 
leaping from the water. 


Thirty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


On these warm days the poop deck be- 
came a very popular place. Had it been 
square, it would have measured forty feet each 
way, and above it, about the height of a tall 
man, was stretched a heavy canvas. In the 
evening this deck was one mass of hammocks, 
swinging bed springs, and mattresses. As we 
were subject more or less to tropical storms, 
many of us hesitated considerably before re- 
slinging our beds up there. We had expe- 
rienced good weather so far, and did not wish 
to break the charm. It was our second night 
in the Gulf of Tehuantepec that sleeping quar- 
ters were changed aft. Even the officers amid- 
ships carried their bedding to be pitched in a 
cooler spot, suffering from one thing, that they 
might enjoy another — the slight evening 
breeze. The Gulf is located about twelve hun- 
dred miles north of Panama. Even on a calm 
day this vast body of unusually green water is 
restless, and continues its heaving and writh- 
ing, almost as if in constant anticipation of a 
storm. When that breaks, it collects all of its 
nervous energy, breaking into a raging temp- 
est, capable of destroying the stoutest ship. I 
had been rather fortunate, not having to move 
much of my bunk on the poop deck. I had 


Thirty-nil 


SEA GRIST 


purchased a home-made rope hammock made 
by the Greek cook, and had slung it so as to 
be near the sheltered ladder which went down 
through the center of the deck. I was exceed- 
ingly glad that I had possessed forethought 
enough to do this, as it saved me much trouble. 

All went well until about two a. m. when 
a stiff breeze sprang up suddenly, and dark 
clouds scudded across the path of a hazy moon. 
The rolling of the ship gradually increased 
with the wind, until it was almost a gale. Large 
drops of rain spattered loudly on the drum- 
tight canvas, the wind blowing a good share 
of it on the bunks. I did not wait longer, but 
hurriedly gathered the blankets from my pitch- 
ing hammock, and made for the ladder. I had 
descended half-way when a continuous torrent 
of rain beat upon the canvas, drowning out 
the sound of the howling wind. There were 
no stars out now, and even the moon was com- 
pletely hidden by a rumbling mass of black 
clouds. Soon the last remnant of light dis- 
appeared, and except for occasional lightning, 
all was black. It was my first storm at sea, 
and to say the least I was appalled by the fury 
of it, and our evident helplessness. By this 
time my fellow occupants began to understand 


Forty 


SEA GRIST 


their perilous position. The tail end of a black 
wave lashed across the deck, carrying with it 
articles of every description, and a score of 
soaking phantoms came down, or tried to come 
down the narrow ladder all at one time. To 
stay in line and come down by turn was quite 
impossible, instead dripping blankets were 
thrust through, and dropped, preceding a damp 
thud made by their owner. I barely escaped 
in time, or I would have been beneath that wet, 
cursing mob. By the next morning the storm 
had abated, but still as the saying goes, “the 
waves rose mountain high.” I learned from 
one of the sailors that these so-called “light 
squalls” were frequent in most tropical coun- 
tries. If what I had gone through the night 
before was merely a “light squall” I would not 
be particularly anxious to encounter a heavy 
storm. 

For several evenings, beginning at about 
the same time, came flashes of far distant light- 
ning, behind low dark clouds. This would 
continue until past midnight, then the clouds 
would slowly gather again and eventually end 
in a torrent, or a drizzling rain, which made the 
day following sultry and hot. The most peac- 
able time came after the twilight, when a slight 


Forty-( 


SEA GRIST 


breeze would spring up, only to end as sud- 
denly in a few hours. At these times Bill and 
I would sit on the boom, or in our hammocks, 
fully relaxed, and lazily speculate on our fu- 
tures, or discuss the affairs of the ship. As 
we were anxious to have our friends know 
that we had really gone to sea, we spent many 
evenings in writing lengthy letters. We often 
expressed regret that some north-bound ship 
could not stop and pick them up, but the Gang 
told us that that would be out of the question. 
However, we would reach a mail buoy that 
night at eleven they told us, and our letters 
would be picked up the following day. We 
were so intent upon seeing the letters off that 
we believed every word of it, and sat up on 
deck until past midnight, watching for the mail 
buoy. There is no telling how long we might 
have sat up, had not Jim sneaked out and 
tipped us off. 


Forty-two 


CHAPTER III 

Hardships of Sea Life, and Panama 

THE evening of our thirteenth day we 
dropped anchor behind the large break- 
water west of Balboa. The last link down, and 
all was quiet on board, for the first time in 
many days, except the faint steady whine of the 
dynamos, and the muffled sound of the pumps. 
We had been under motion for so long that it 
took some little time to become accustomed to 
the stillness. Voices sounded loud and harsh 
in the engine-room, and noises that had form- 
erly been drowned by the turbine, we now 
heard. Unconsciously, we braced ourselves 
against the motion of the ship, and finding no 
motion our actions were awkward and unneces- 
sary. We were experiencing what is practic- 
ally known as land-sickness. 

We turned in early that night, with great 
anticipation for the following day. It was 
hard to believe that we were actually about to 
enter the “big ditch” twenty-six hundred miles 
from home! We had grave fears for our an- 


Forty-three 


SEA GRIST 


ticipations, however, as we were certain that 
we would be working below, the whole dis- 
tance of the canal. There were no portholes 
from the engine-room, and to stay on deck 
would be quite impossible. After Bill and I 
left the mess-room that morning, we stayed 
on deck to the last minute, before turning to, 
but received no reward for our efforts. De- 
jectedly we went below, too disgusted for 
words, and too proud to ask for the day off. 
Great curses! To come all this distance, and 
not be able to take in the canal. It was too 
much for words 1 

At ten o’clock, we did most of the floor- 
plates, and cleaned in the engine-room. The 
Second, who was on watch, was now running 
with the throttle at half speed. Bill and I knew 
that we were missing the sight of a lifetime, 
and were more than eager to run up on the 
topside. What was the reason for our being 
left below? — “Come on Bill,” I said, “We’ll 
go up anyhow.” But Bill was reluctant to leave 
his duty. I had just reached the top grating, 
when the Chief poked his head in from the 
port alley-way. I thought I was in for it now, 
but determined to brazen it out someway, but 
was pleasantly surprised when he said, “Come 


Forty-four 


SEA GRIST 


on deck boys, and tell that third wiper to come 
along too.” 

As we came up from below, dripping with 
perspiration, into a cool refreshing rain, the 
prow of our ship swung round, until it pointed 
almost due north, then proceeded along what 
seemed to be a narrow snake-like river. We 
were met by a rolling, hilly country, which ex- 
tended as far as we could see on either side, 
thickly covered with a spring green vegetation, 
many of the trees fairly drooping with moss 
and jungle fungus. The sight was fascinating, 
and held us like the eye of a great python 
drawing its prey. 

As soon as the rain had ceased, a hot trop- 
ical sun filtered through, and flooded the scene 
with a gorgeous light. Banana trees heavily 
laden, and long leaved palms, swaying slightly 
in the breeze, all made a dense green back- 
ground, except for the spots of color made by 
the hanging yellow fruit. On a few large clear- 
ings stood peculiarly constructed two-story, 
screened houses, inhabited mostly by the 
whites of the district. These houses are strict- 
ly typical of the country, and can be found in 
no place except Panama. 


Forty-five 


SEA GRIST 


After an hour of continuous winding, we 
rounded our last hill, and came quite suddenly 
upon the first set of locks. The immensity of 
the things was appalling! A large concrete 
arm reached toward us, supporting a long red 
bulbed arrow, indicating that we should take 
the channel to our right. Two heavily riveted 
steel gates, some forty feet in height, stood 
open, and very slowly we steamed in, until the 
gates closed behind us in a great V. On either 
side, high above us, as we were practically en- 
closed by concrete, stood four underslung elec- 
tric trams, ready for our line, as we slowly 
rose to the level of the next lock. It is a law 
that a ship cannot pass through the locks under 
her own steam, but is towed by four armored 
trams, which may be operated at either end. 
Strong cables are attached to the ship, the two 
trams forward of the ship pulling, and the two 
aft, serving as a check. Almost immediately 
there began a gurgling and bubling beneath us, 
and within ten minutes the ship had been raised 
to the level of the second dock. The bottom 
of each lock is covered with valves, controlled 
from tall concrete watch towers, at frequent 
intervals along the port side. There are 
two complete passage-ways, enabling ships 


Forty-si: 


SEA GRIST 


to pass while in the locks. The space 
between the two channels, some thirty- 
five feet, is concrete, and accommodates two 
single cog tracks, one for each channel. On 
the inside of the tracks, are two rows of pedes- 
tal lights with clusters, which at night illumi- 
nate each lock with a clear white light. 

Upon entering the locks the landscape, 
though still very green, took on a more civilized 
and cultured aspect. The dirt, long since 
drawn from the canal, was now used for ter- 
raced lawns, around which was plotted many 
beautifully tinted tropical flowers. It reminded 
one of the famous Busch Gardens in Pasa- 
dena, in all its rolling greenery. Evidently 
years ago, when the fresh earth had been ex- 
cavated, and piled hither and thither on each 
side, the vegetation had collected before time 
could be taken to level it. Pretty little 
screened houses could be seen perched upon 
these knolls, just high enough to escape from 
the flooding torrents of the rainy season. 

Several Pan-American negroes came 
aboard at the first lock, and stayed until we 
reached Colon. Close to ten thousand of these 
are employed by the Government for canal 
work only. Interesting, jovial fellows they are. 


Forty-s 


SEA GRIST 


bringing their “bones” and their many souve- 
nirs to entice tenderfoot sailors. Bill and I 
purchased many postcards and folders, but be- 
yond that point we did not bite. 

Many white men — several hundred — are 
employed for construction work and dredging. 
The pay is excellent, and living is much 
cheaper than in the States, as all Government 
employees rate a room, and live from the com- 
missary, which gives them their food at cost. 
The canal now completed, is supervised by 
several departments or divisions, each one di- 
rectly responsible for a particular line of work. 
In this way Washington has a close check on 
the minutest details in the entire Canal Zone. 
One probably wonders what is between the 
first set of locks — Miraflores, and the last — 
Gatun. The answer is, a series or chain of 
fresh water lakes covered with hundreds of 
small tropical islands. From a distance these 
islands appear as a myriad of floating green. 
Half closing one’s eyes the ship stands motion- 
less, and scores of emerald isles, their edges 
piled high with dead drift wood, slide noise- 
lessly past. At certain spots to the right and 
left of the channel, the water runs shallow, 
and here hundreds of lifeless, nude trees bend 


Forty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


their heads, as though in shame, over the flaw- 
less blue expanse. 

Approaching the Atlantic side, after leav- 
ing the lakes, we entered the celebrated Cule- 
bra Cut, the most difficult part of the canal 
construction, on account of the many slides. 
The water is very muddy, and quite often we 
saw baby alligators lazily endeavoring to hide 
themselves under a floating shrub, or burrow 
themselves into a mud bank. Just beyond this 
point we saw much of the old French ma- 
chinery, used in the first canal construction, 
also many abandoned channels now nearly 
choked with vegetation. 

After leaving the first set of locks. Bill 
and I sat in our hammocks on the poop deck. 
It was an extremely warm day, without a 
breath of air stirring, and we idled away the 
afternoon by resting comfortably, and watch- 
ing the sights. It was a novel experience, and 
we sat pop-eyed, missing no details. Our prog- 
ress was extremely slow, as our pilot believed 
in safety first, and followed all of the floating 
signals. It is just fifty-eight miles from tip to 
tip, Balboa to Colon, and it took us nine hours, 
averaging a little more than six miles per hour! 
Most of the time, however, was taken up in 


Forty-nil 


SEA GRIST 


passing through the locks. The large steel 
gates moved very slowly, and the trams towed 
at an estimated rate of two miles per hour. 
Nevertheless it was all somewhat speedier than 
shipping around the Horn, or unloading and 
shipping across by rail. The three locks 
on the Pacific side raise the water level 
eighty-four feet, twenty-eight feet in each 
lock, and lower it in the same amount 
in the same way in the three locks on the At- 
lantic. Each lock is one thousand feet in 
length, and has a width which will accommo- 
date the world’s largest battleship. It has al- 
ready been rumored, however, that there is a 
ship in construction, at the present time, which 
is so large that it could not pass either through 
the locks or the Culebra Cut. 

At nearly sundown, we reached the last set 
of locks, and the view we obtained from this 
height could not be surpassed. For several 
nautical miles we were able to look down over 
the locks, and channel, and past the break- 
water, into the Caribbean Sea. 

❖ ❖ ❖ ❖ 

We were awakened in the customary rough 
manner the following morning, and found our- 


Fifty 


SEA GRIST 


selves many miles from Panama, and in the 
Caribbean sea. The ship had been practically 
motionless for a number of hours, and when 
I climbed out of my bunk on deck, I found my- 
self reeling. A stiff breeze had blown up dur- 
ing the night, which seemed to be increasing 
every moment. By the time that we were 
dressed it seemed as though the ship would 
stand on her beam’s end. At breakfast we 
were continually trading plates, unintention- 
ally, over the slippery oil cloth, or spilling our 
coffee when the table stood at a dangerous in- 
cline. It was not a happy breakfast for Bill, 
for he suddenly seemed to lose his seaworth- 
iness. A large spoonful of mush, suspended 
en route to his open cavity, was dropped quite 
suddenly, and with a strained smile he excused 
himself. We went to work that morning with 
less vigor and enthusiasm than we should have 
had, after our day of vacation. I was put to 
work with the Deck Engineer, overhauling and 
repacking one of the pumps. The work was 
not hard, but it was dangerous, as I had to en- 
ter the bilges, in order to make a better con- 
nection. The bilges had several inches of oily 
water, and with every lunge and roll, I thought 
I would be swept from my feet. As I have 


Fifty-( 


SEA GRIST 


said, my mechanical knowledge was nil, and I 
had to listen very closely to get the vaguest 
idea what was wanted. For a landlubber to 
enter the manhole leading to the bilges, for the 
first time, even equipped with an electric torch, 
took some consideration. It was not the con- 
sideration of “do, or not to do,” but an order 
to be obeyed, with no thought of personal con- 
sequences. Needless to say, I did the work in 
the shortest time possible, suffering no hard- 
ships, except the slimy feeling of oil-soaked 
clothing. 

This was Saturday, and the First told us 
to “knock off” at noon for the day. When I 
came up from below, my durgarees and shirt 
stuck to my body in greasy wrinkles, and for 
a time I was the object of much amusement. 
I spent more than an hour of arduous scrub- 
bing after lunch, before I had any results in 
removing the stuff from my pores. Scrubbed 
clean, and in my dry clothes, I lay down in my 
bunk anticipating a quiet afternoon. How 
good it seemed to lie there, gently and fully 
relaxed! I had just fallen to sleep. A clear 
vision of our little bungalow flashed into my 
dream. I was getting ready to go somewhere 
with my mother. It was wonderful to be at 


Fifty-two 


SEA GRIST 


home again, and to enjoy the sweet presence of 
a mother. The ship was a thing of the past, 
and I seemed to be telling her about “When I 
was on the ship,” of some incident that had 
happened, and we laughed together about it. 
Something rough was happening, but I did not 
care. I was home, HOME, how good that 
word did seem! The vision of home, through 
some outward force, faded, and in its place 
came the consciousness of ship motion, with 
some new and added characteristic. What 
shook the ship so violently? Hastily I opened 
my eyes to see the begrimed oiler on watch 
pushing me, none too gently, in the ribs, with 
his fist. “The First wants ye below,” was all 
he said, then turned and went toward the steer- 
ing engine. I was still doubtful about obeying 
orders, for fear of a frame up of some sort, 
so slowly pulled on my shoes and prepared to 
go below. Instead of going across the deck, 
as it was my custom to do, I stepped cautiously 
into the alley-way, and climbed down into the 
shaft alley, through the ventilator. The First 
was in the engine-room, talking to the engineer 
on watch when I approached’ I pretended that 
I had just happened to come below for some- 
thing, and hanging on carefully (for the floor- 


Fifty-three 


SEA GRIST 


plates took a bad incline occasionally), I went 
by him into the fire-room. While talking with 
the water-tender he came in, and jerked his 
head toward the firemen’s bench. I knew now 
that it was not a frame up, so braced myself 
for the worst. He had been finding fault con- 
stantly with the way in which I kept the dyn- 
amo platform. Someone had taken my keys, 
while off duty, and stolen several dozen bars 
of soap from the tool room locker. Water had 
gotten in through the bulkhead, and rusted 
several lathe tools, so I did not wonder very 
much that he had reasons to register a kick. 

He looked at me with a sort of hard toler- 
ating look, peculiar to First Assistant Engi- 
neers. I fully expected some form of chastise- 
ment, so, I am afraid, cowered submissively. 
There was not a man aboard who did not hold 
the greatest respect for his fighting ability, my- 
self included. Even the Chief, as large as he 
was, hesitated to issue orders very sternly to 
the First. His quiet and confident manner 
suggested big things for themselves. His in- 
trepidity surpassed that of the ordinary man, 
although he was of medium stature. At least 
there was one thing 1 was absolutely sure of, 
I could not be fired, and much less disrated, as 


Fifty-foor 


SEA GRIST 


I already was of the lowest order! The blow 
came at last! 

“Give me your keys/’ He held out his 
hand, glaring at me all the while. With an in- 
nocent, questioning look I reached into my 
pocket, and handed them over . 

“Where’s the other bunch?” 

“On the Engineer’s log desk,” I told 
him, avoiding his glance. 

“That’s the Hell of a place for keys. Don’t 
you know that? Bring them here.” 

I ran quickly, and handed him the other 
bunch. 

“Hereafter Jim will be storekeeper. Do 
you understand?” 1 nodded my head some- 
what sheepishly. 

“Do you know what’s the matter with you? 
You can’t shoulder responsibility; you just run 
around here like a damn fool. Why don’t you 
take things easy, and figure things out before 
you do them, instead of jumping into a thing 
you don’t know anything about. Ask some- 
body. Talk is cheap.” 

I saw his point all right, and made up my 
mind to follow his advice. The one puz- 
zling feature about him was his eyes. I knew 
he was perfectly serious with me, yet when he 


Fifty- five 


SEA GRIST 


had finished he had that peculiar twinkle in his 
eyes that I had never been able to fathom. I 
had a sneaking suspicion that he was laughing 
up his sleeve at my expense, but still his face 
held the same angry expression. 

I was far from being disheartened, as I had 
never wanted the storekeeper’s job. There 
had been so much detail work, along with the 
regular work, that I had not been able to spend 
much time on it. Although I enjoyed hand- 
ling the tools, and other equipment, the tool- 
room, being directly above the condenser and 
pumps, was at times unbearably hot. Quite 
frequently I would be called to the Chiefs 
cabin for instructions regarding some fitting, 
or article that would require hours of work 
over the bench, and understanding the use of 
but few tools, it took me much longer than it 
would have taken the average mechanic. 
However, my troubles were over, in that re- 
spect at least, and I congratulated myself when 
I came to a full realization of the fact. 

The following morning being Sunday, I 
stayed in my bunk until a late hour, while for- 
merly on Sunday morning I had been routed 
out at six a. m. for a couple of hours of tough 
work, under the direction of the First. This 


Fifty- six 


SEA GRIST 


was indeed an opportune time to wash and 
mend, but seldom did I take advantage of it. 
It was much more pleasant to lie perfectly still 
in my bunk, and reflect upon things which it 
seemed I had never thought of before. 

It was eleven o’clock when I finally sum- 
moned the ambition to forget my dreaming, 
and get dressed. I did not “turn to” until four 
o’clock, so had ample time to eat and wash my 
clothes. I believe I would have given several 
days’ wages every month for a laundry. The 
clothes, especially dungarees, were caked with 
dirty grease, and it took an infinite amount of 
labor to boil them and scrub them out, which 
we did at least once a week. This was much 
harder than putting in overtime; to clean up 
after a hard day’s work, then wash out a few 
clothes. If we had not washed some things 
every day or so, our scanty wardrobe would 
have been exhausted. 

I shall never forget the feed that was put 
out that Sunday noon, in our mess-room. I 
remember it particularly, as later on we had 
occasion to refer it to the Steward. It caused 
so much comment at the time, for comments 
being unusual, the cooks never exerted them- 
selves again. Served right in style came the 


Fifty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


bouillon, then the choice of fried chicken, 
mashed potatoes with gravy, and green peas, 
or well browned roast beef, with potatoes and 
apple sauce. Second and third helpings of 
everything were allowable. Ship made bread 
and strawberry jam were used quite freely in 
between. Next came large pieces of the finest 
cream cocoanut pie I had ever tasted, followed 
by a delicate filling cake. It was not such a 
large variety, but what there was was good! 
With the many helpings Bill and 1 (Bill’s ap- 
petite had returned) managed to make out a 
meal. 

The heavy off-shore wind, which had 
blown since we left Panama, had abated to 
some extent, and we had hopes that it would 
die out and leave us a calm stretch. It had 
been such bad weather that the poop deck was 
entirely deserted, and the large tarpaulin had 
been rolled up and lashed to the frame work. 
As I stood in the fok’sl opening, after dinner, 
and looked out into a driving rain, the ship ap- 
peared as some huge air craft, caught in the 
clutches of a cyclone. The sea ran long and 
high, and occasionally when an unusually high 
and large wave would loom up ahead, it 
seemed as though it would comb the ship. In- 


Fifty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


Stead we would rise almost to its huge crest, 
and as it slid beneath, we fully expected to 
meet our fate, in the yawning valley below. 
We plunged downward with great swiftness, 
and it seemed none other than a miracle that 
we did not continue downward into the whirl- 
ing green depths, with only a few spars left to 
mark our path. 

Another week started before we realized 
that we had been gone nearly three weeks. 
Our change of work had made the time pass 
much more quickly. The fact that every 
turn of the screw and every revolution of the 
turbine put us just a little farther away, caused 
an aching void that we were slow in over- 
coming. 

Indeed, with a change of work, and less 
responsibility, I entered the engine-room with 
less dread, and at times it really seemed a 
pleasure. That Monday morning, as I half 
slid and half jumped down the iron stairway, 
I had a peculiarly nonchalant feeling come 
over me about work. The First’s words came 
to me again. “Why don’t you take things 
easy?” A very practical thing to do, so I im- 
mediately made up my mind to do it. As I 
passed the First on the engineer’s platform, I 


Fifty-nine 


SEA GRIST 


gave him a hasty but knowing grin, before 
dropping to the floor-plates, not stopping to 
see if it was appreciated. This was my first ad- 
vance toward him, so I hastily regretted the 
action. 

Jim and I turned bilge divers that morning. 
A section of the floor-plates had been taken up 
and we crawled under the steam pipes of the 
circulator, in about four inches of turbine oil, 
and worked the entire morning fitting a piece 
under the flange of the oil pipe. It seems that 
some of the bearings had been running hot. It 
was all accounted for by the leak from the main 
oil line, connected with the pump. With this 
leak stopped the bearings ran cool again, but 
there was a large quantity of oil in the bilges, 
which had to be taken care of. On the star- 
board side of the engine-room, is a machine 
somewhat like a cream separator, made espe- 
cially for separating oil from water. It is a 
very slow process, as not more than a gallon 
can be fed at one time, and there were many 
hundred gallons in the bilges. A network of 
partly unprotected steam pipes practically sur- 
round the separator. We were instructed by 
the First that we should separate at least three 
barrels of oil each day, along with our other 


Sixty 


SEA GRIST 


work. This news was disheartening to Jim, as 
well as to myself, as we knew the job would last 
weeks and perhaps months. Although the 
weather was now exceptionally cool on deck, 
the separator was scarcely approachable on ac- 
count of the many steam pipes. 

Jim started the dreaded work that after- 
noon, but I had been informed by the First 
that the Deck Engineer needed my assistance. 
The “Deck,” a former man of the ring, was 
quite amiable and easy to work with. Our job 
was to re-pack and adjust the auxiliary oil 
pump. I was told to loosen the big nut on the 
plunger, by putting a Stiltson on it, with a pipe 
over the handle. This gave an enormous 
amount of leverage, more than I realized, and 
the strain broke the arm off the piston at the 
steam contact. I was at a loss to know just 
what to do, or to say! Although I had followed 
instructions, I was quite certain of another 
informal chastisement of some sort from the 
First. We carried no spare parts of that sort, 
so it appeared impossible that it could be re- 
paired. The “Deck” gave a short laugh and 
told me not to worry about it. He was a me- 
chanic through and through, and many ways 
suggested themselves as a possible remedy. A 


Sixty-( 


-LA GRIST 


few hours of cutting, fitting and drilling, in the 
tool room, and the pump was repaired tempo- 
rarily. I marvelled at his resourcefulness. It 
came to me that nothing could be impossible 
with the bulk materials, the tools, and the nec- 
essary knowledge of their application. 

For several days Jim and I worked on the 
separator, while Bill did the cleaning up 
around the engine-room. It finally came to 
the point where we had to strip down to noth- 
ing but our dungarees, and our shoes — or else 
go for hours at a time with our shirts wringing 
wet. To be sure we were very apt to get burned 
by the surrounding pipes, but we were forced 
to choose the lesser of the two evils. It proved 
to be disastrous for me, as the second day on 
the job, the sudden lurch of the ship sent me 
sprawling on an open steam flange. As I 
backed off, part of the skin on my chest was 
left adhering to the uncovered pipe. 

For a number of days I nursed my injury 
with the kind help of the Steward. It was sev- 
eral days before a scab was formed, as the 
continual sweating made it impossible to keep 
on a bandage. My apparent affliction had no 
effect on the First, as the work was continued, 
even until we reached Glasgow. I endeavored 


Sixty-t 


SEA GRIST 


to be good-natured about the matter, and went 
about my work as though nothing had occur- 
red. Had I been at home when such a thing 
happened, I would have received the utmost 
sympathy and condolence, but here no notice 
was taken of it. Occasionally some of the men 
I had been friendly with, would ask me how I 
was getting along, but that was all. This was 
one of the valuable lessons that I learned. The 
animal instinct about pain was predominant, 
and I accepted it without formality or question. 
If a shipmate was suffering with pain, or an- 
guish, he went about his work apparently un- 
concerned, expecting no commiseration what- 
ever. It is the law of men, and I endeavored 
to improve upon their theory. If I should by 
any chance die or be killed — very well, I will 
then be satisfied in regard to my theory con- 
cerning death. If I should become maimed or 
incapacitated — good. I will then learn the real 
value of my friends. If I continue to live, as 
is, no harm can be done, and I will learn to 
understand men as well as the true theory con- 
cerning their lives. Not referring to men who 
have been pampered and spoiled by every con- 
venience, but men who have bucked the odds, 
and faced the world as it really is. I could not 


Sixty-three 


SEA GRIST 


but think of the people in large congested 
cities, towns, and even the country, who live 
their lives comfortably, complaining of their 
ailments, and their hard lot in this life. Al- 
ways discussing and palavering about small 
petty ailments, and discomfortures; twisting 
and distorting their lives, about what? About 
things that are useless and unnecessary to the 
sustenance of an open mind. Although the 
general class of men aboard ship are ignorant 
of ideals, and things of culture, they have a 
certain conception of life that is enviable. 

We had been pushing steadily through a 
rolling sea, and constant rain for five days, 
until suddenly the weather changed. The heavy 
wind died down, and shortly a light breeze 
sprang up from the southwest. There was no 
land in sight, and all we could see were the 
great rollers, and patches of azure sky through 
dark-rimmed summer clouds. Incessantly 
large combers would slap the side, the remain- 
ing part sweeping the deck, and flinging its 
fine spray over the entire ship. We were still 
in the Caribbean Sea, which accounted for the 
uncertain weather, but we expected to reach 
some island in the Virgin Group inside of three 
days. The first course laid out was direct to 


Sixty-four 


SEA GRIST 


Glasgow, but some repair work seemed neces- 
sary, and this was the first and last opportunity 
before crossing the broad Atlantic, 

I was astride the spare anchor lazily watch- 
ing the scene one evening, when the Chief put 
his head out of the port fok’sl quite suddenly 
and ordered me below. This was very unus- 
ual, as everything seemed to be running quite 
smoothly, and as a rule the Chief did not con- 
cern himself about his wipers. I could hear 
the dull hollow whine of the turbine, and the 
continued throbbing of the screw as it turned. 
Nothing apparently was wrong. As I got up 
from my comfortable but damp position, and 
watched my chance to run amidships, the tur- 
bine suddenly stopped. By the time I reached 
the grating at the top of the engine-room, the 
motion of the ship was lost, and she listed 
heavily in the trough of the sea. It almost 
made me dizzy as I looked down those three 
flights to the bowels of the ship, where small, 
dirty men were shouting excitedly, and run- 
ning madly too and fro with their different 
tools. It seemed like death itself to be on the 
bottom floor-plates, and not hear that hollow 
deafening whine of the turbine; instead, hoarse 
voices of excited men fighting for their ship. 


Sixty- five 


SEA GRIST 


and perhaps their very lives! Confusion 
reigned supreme. Not knowing what to do to 
help, I rushed around like the rest, getting 
tools and chain tackles from the tool-room, and 
bringing them to the scene of action. 

The First and the Chief were working like 
madmen, over the air pump. It seemed that 
the brass flapper valves had not been of suffi- 
cient strength to withstand the continued 
strain, and several had snapped off at the mid- 
dle, making the condenser lose its vacuum. 
The First maintained a grim silence, unless it 
was to snap an order at the Chief. The latter 
raved and bellowed like some wild thing, or- 
dering this tool and that until most of the tool- 
room lay at his feet. The men, anxious to help, 
could not obey his commands fast enough. 
The progress was slow, in spite of all the hocus 
pocus, as the motion of the ship became so vio- 
lent that it became necessary to work with one 
hand, and cling for support with the other. This 
lasted for three hours, and when we were again 
under way our strength was practically ex- 
hausted. There seemed to be a tax on the brain, 
as well as the body, and when I hit my bunk 
that night, I was quite ready to enter the inert 
paths of perfect relaxation, and sleep. 


Sixty-sh 


CHAPTER IV 
Behind the Boilers 
Saint Thomas 

ARRIVED in Saint Thomas, Virgin 
Islands, just as the last golden rays of 
the sun god were passing behind a group of 
rather barren, acarpous hills. This was two 
days after our first serious engine trouble, and 
by all indications we were in for a good bit of 
repairing while in port. The Captain was re- 
luctant to stop at all, but the Chief assured him 
that he would run a day and night shift and be 
out in three days. This of course sounded bad 
for us as it would give us no opportunity to 
look over the town. 

Saint Thomas, the most civilized of any 
town in the group, boasted a beautiful bay, the 
only asset of the entire island. It was shaped 
somewhat as a bottle ; entering at the neck the 
town stretched out from the left, spreading 
over a number of acres of rolling green coun- 
try. Several miles around the bay had been 
intensely cultivated by the natives and made a 


Sixty-seve 


SEA GRIST 


Striking contrast to the unproductive hills be- 
yond. The town itself made a stately appear- 
ance, with its square front, two-story buildings, 
made mostly from adobe. From the bay the 
streets seemed very narrow and by using the 
imagination moving objects could be seen pass- 
ing to and fro. 

Bill and I were almost furious when we 
were ordered below by the First after chow 
that night. We had set our hearts on going 
ashore and exploring the town for an Ameri- 
can soda fountain, and it was not easy to give 
it up. We had not been off the ship since the 
first day we signed on, and naturally antici- 
pated the good old feel of solid ground beneath 
our feet. But obey orders we must, putting 
personal interest aside for the interests of the 
ship. Doggedly we went below, determined 
to get ashore some time during our stay, if we 
had to go without sleep in order to do it. 

The First separated Bill and me that night. 
He was assigned to deck work, while my tasks 
took me up behind the boilers. Hot work it 
was, as two of the three boilers were still under 
steam. The First came down with his boiler 
suit on, ready for a good night’s work. I could 
read the determination in his attitude as he 


Sixty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


ordered me to the bunker for some fire clay. 
He had planned definite work for all below and 
everyone was stepping lively at his commands. 
I could not find the fire clay in the bunker, 
even after a thorough search. The First was 
considerably aggravated by this, so came up to 
look for it himself. That there was no fire clay 
was evident, so he politely dismissed me from 
his mind, temporarily at least, only to hurry 
below again to check up on the work there. 

The bunker was just off the second landing 
going down into the engine-room. Several hun- 
dred bricks were needed immediately, so I at 
once became the object of search. The First 
openly accused me of hiding in the bunker, 
and although not guilty of the charge, I said 
nothing and began the tedious work of carry- 
ing the bricks to the fire-room. I could not 
carry many at a time as the ladder was steep 
and the ship was rolling slightly, and should I 
have dropped just one on the H. P. right be- 
neath, I felt that I should not live to mention 
it even to Bill. After two hours of hard labor, 
the one hundred bricks lay ready for use on the 
floor in the fire-room. I was very tired, but 
they gave me no rest. The First next sent me 
to the bunker for some asbestos shreds which 


Sixty-nil 


SEA GRIST 


was to be mixed with fire clay he had secured 
from ashore. The mixing was not so bad and 
I had an opportunity to rest up a bit before 
carrying the clay up behind the boilers. 

To get behind the boilers one has to climb 
a grating. A perpendicular steel wall runs be- 
hind all three boilers, and from the heighth of 
the grating they slant about sixty degrees back, 
enabling one with well padded gloves to climb 
behind. The footing, which was brick-work, 
had become loose, and this had to be torn out 
and replaced like new. When I carried up the 
supplies I did not stay any longer than neces- 
sary, not being used to the intense dry heat, 
and the First chided me quite severely for it. 
It was a half hour past midnight when the last 
of the work was completed, and all the tools 
were put away in their proper places. I was 
dog tired and was asleep almost before I hit 
my bunk, not stopping to change my clothes or 
even wash. 

Complete rest is a wonderful thing, and by 
eight o’clock the following morning, although 
a little stiff, I was ready to go at it again. This 
time I was to work with the Second on the fan- 
engine, which is two grating directly above the 
boilers. The Second was a good natured, lazy 


Seventy 


SEA GRIST 


fellow, and I did not mind working with him in 
the least. Although the fidley, or stack cham- 
ber, was fully as hot as behind the boilers, I 
did not seem to mind it. I had the feeling that 
I could take a “blow” whenever I needed it, so 
stayed as long as was comfortable, then hur- 
riedly climbed out, usually followed by the 
Second. The latter was an ice water hound, 
and while taking such a “blow” we usually 
raided the ice machine. Our trouble had been 
with the main bearing of the fan-engine, which 
ran hot, and we had to take the head off and 
put in just enough copper shims to make it run 
free. We worked the entire day at it and by 
chow time that night we were nearly finished. 

By the time the last peal of the supper bell 
had died away Bill and I were ready for a 
swim. Our motto of “make it snappy” was put 
in a direct form of action. Going forward we 
dived from the railing off the port side before 
anyone could stop us. We had entertained 
visions of a swim for so long that to think 
made pronto action. In fact we had made 
such good time that no one noticed us until we 
were in the water. We struck out for the 
beach about a quarter of a mile away and were 
a good distance from the ship when we heard 


Seventy-( 


SEA GRIST 


shouts from the bridge. I stopped undecided, 
but Bill continued his long easy stroke. Some 
one, it looked like the Mate, was summoning 
us back. I could not make out what he said, 
but it was evident by the many flourishes of 
the arm that our speedy return would be appre- 
ciated. By this time Bill had stopped, and it 
was unanimous between us that we should re- 
turn at once. We were still many rods from 
the rope ladder and were swimming at a rea- 
sonable speed when words caught our ear that 
made us fairly start. Bill was all hands and 
feet doing the Australian crawl in the straight- 
est line possible for the ladder. I plodded along 
some distance behind, making a good deal of 
splash, perhaps the only reason I was not at- 
tacked by those black finned bodies. Again I 
thought of home and mother, and what they 
would do concerning my death. That expres- 
sive line of Byron haunted and raced through 
my declining reason: “Think’st thou existence 
doth depend on time?” 

Drooping from our exhaustive struggle, we 
were helped aft by our many spectators, and 
after a short rest were able to eat some supper. 
We were not fully able to appreciate our dan- 
ger until the next day, when we learned that 


Seventy.two 


SEA GRIST 


one of the natives had suddenly disappeared 
while swimming close in to the beach. It 
served as a lesson and we were very careful 
thereafter about jumping overboard without 
first inquiring as to the suitability of it. 

The First knocked Bill ofP after chow, but 
told me to help the Second finish the fan-en- 
gine. Of course Bill went ashore with the 
Gang as soon as he was cleaned up, leaving 
me with a sad countenance, indeed. The Sec- 
ond gave me no encouragement, except that if 
the bearing did not work properly when it was 
finished we would work all night if necessary, 
until it did. It was after nine o’clock before 
we had the proper amount of shims under the 
bearing and the head screwed on snugly. All 
that remained was to see if it worked. Slowly 
the Second applied the steam and with a little 
kick off she gradually gained speed. The full 
amount of steam on, it rose slowly to a con- 
tinual throbbing hum, disclosing no knock or 
mechanical disability. We waited for a time 
to see if anything would develop, but were 
agreeably disappointed. 

I made all speed possible in getting cleaned 
up. It was the first time I had had my good 
clothes on since leaving home, and it seemed 


Seventy-three 


SEA GRIST 


odd to gaze into the mirror and see a gentle- 
man, at least so called. We were tied up to 
a wharf on the opposite side of the bay, so it 
was no trick to climb over the side and hail the 
waiting jitney. The novelty of being ashore 
and riding in a machine once more gave me a 
considerable kick, so to speak. We followed 
the narrow shore road some distance before 
branching off into an apparent jungle of ba- 
nana trees, then straight into the town, some 
four miles in all. 

The only thing that I recognized about the 
town from what I had seen while coming into 
the bay, was the narrow streets. The buildings 
were most disappointing. From across the bay 
they looked very white, and their architecture 
seemed perfect, making almost a cosmopolitan 
appearance. In reality it was a town of filthy 
streets, and fast decaying adobe structures, 
hardly deserving the name of buildings. The 
inhabitants, some eight thousand, were all na- 
tives and dressed in garments familiar to the 
time of Caesar. I might mention here the un- 
deniable fact that the town, even after a month’s 
dry spell, was quite wet. The odor, though 
unfamiliar I assure you, made my nostrils di- 
late upon my first entrance into the town. I 


Seventy-four 


SEA GRIST 


had better proof later that evening that my 
olfactory nerves had registered correctly. 

I left the jitney and part of my month’s 
wages in front of a large sign, ‘‘American Soda 
Fountain,” where I found Bill and Dad, the 
old gallyman, entering for the third time. With 
much persuasion on their part I joined their 
company and drowned my many sorrows in a 
schooner of lemon soda. After that we walked 
around the town, taking in the many points of 
interest, which included the big local dance 
hall. A large orchestra of three was furnish- 
ing the jazz for the motly throng of dusky 
shakers, and we thoroughly enjoyed watching 
the performance. 

It was a late hour when we began our search 
for a jitney to take us back to the ship. There 
being none available at that time of night at 
any price, we had another soda and started 
our long walk to the ship. As the natives were 
very superstitious and stayed near bright lights 
after nightfall, we rested assured that we would 
not be molested. After we were well out of 
town with all its dense shade trees, a white 
moon peeped through a hole in a faint starlit 
sky, its beams playing gleefully on graceful 
silvery waves along a sandy beach. It was a 


Seventy- five 


SEA GRIST 


wonderful night; the air was soft and balmy 
and perfectly still except for the sound of the 
waves and a peculiar faint wail of some strange 
bird off in the distant foliage. The road was 
rough and full of many obstacles, the summer 
moon casting many deceiving shadows, which 
frequently made us stumble. At length we 
reached the ship, surprised to find that the 
Black Gang had not yet returned. 

It was past two o’clock when Bill and I hit 
our bunks that morning, very tired from our 
day’s work, the swim, and the long walk. It 
seemed that I had scarcely dropped off to sleep 
when I was roughly shaken. There was loud 
laughter in the fok’sl and in the adjoining 
mess-room, and I dimly concluded that the 
Gang must have returned. The smell of 
whisky was strong and the noise soon grew 
into a vociferous din. Becoming more fully 
awake, I inferred by the general clamor that 
a poker game was about to be started in the 
mess-room and that my persecutor desired a 
loan. In all my former quiet life I had never 
had any dealings with drunks, and in fact had 
never seen any except at a distance. It is not 
strange that I became quite alarmed upon be- 
ing persistently shaken. I did not know 




SEA GRIST 


whether to feign sleep or get up and face the 
matter squarely. By the voice I took it to be 
Jim. At the same time it did not seem like 
Jim, as some fiery demon seemed to have him 
in perfect control. 

“Slippery! Slippery!” he kept shouting in 
my ear. This was the nickname that had re- 
cently been given me by one of the firemen 
and that stuck throughout the trip. At last be- 
coming tired of the performance, I sat up and 
rubbed my eyes, showing him that I was 
awake. 

“Here Slip, gi’ me ten bucks and take my 
gold watch.” He nodded deliriously and low- 
ered his voice to a confidential whisper, as he 
proffered the article. I had read of such things 
and thought that he might claim the watch the 
next day, saying that I had stolen it. He must 
have noticed my hesitation, as he began feeling 
in my trouser pockets, hanging by the fok’sl 
head. Luckily there was nothing there except 
some small change, my few bills being under 
lock and key. I told him that 1 had no money, 
and, cussing me horribly, he turned and stag- 
gered into the mess-room. The noise had sub- 
sided somewhat and I concluded that the game 
had started. I heard Jim whine for another 


Seventy-seven 


SEA GRIST 


drink, which was evidently denied him at first; 
then I fell into another sound sleep. 

I must have slept at least an hour when I 
was again awakened, this time by Bill. He 
was fully dressed and I saw immediately that 
he was excited about something. 

“Jim’s gone crazy and he’s out on the deck 
now,” was all he said, then hurried out. 

The game had broken up and as I hastily 
pulled on my trousers I heard sounds of a 
struggle quite a way down the deck. Emerging 
from the companionway, I saw Jim flat on his 
back struggling with four figures, who were 
evidently trying to carry him. He was cursing 
his work, the First, the Chief and the ship, and 
kicking like some spoiled child that needed to 
be spanked. Growing suddenly tired, he would 
moan as though he were in great pain, then 
end up sobbing like a baby. Suddenly regain- 
ing part of his reason, he was never going to 
drink again as long as he lived. The four made 
no progress against his violent kicking, so let 
him alone, and tottered irresolutely toward 
their own bunks. Left alone he ceased his 
struggles, and I thought that he was asleep 
until Bill approached from the galley with a 
blanket and a tin of water. He began his 


Seventy-eight 


SEA GRIST 


racket all over again, so I turned in disgust and 
went back to bed. It was a humorous situation, 
and I think I would have laughed had I not 
been so dead tired. 

It was noon the same day before we cast off 
our lines and slipped noiselessly out into the 
current. From the mess-room we could hear 
the bells of the telegraph and feel the orders 
from the bridge by the reverse, slow ahead, and 
half ahead. I do not know why, but it was 
with a feeling of relief that we left the island 
for open sea. Coming on deck after mess we 
were in time to see the neck of the bottle-like 
bay draw thinner, the town in the distance 
grow smaller, and eventually all that lay be- 
fore us was a vast expanse of shining blue 
water. We expected to take the northern 
route by way of the North Channel, which 
would land us in Glasgow after seventeen days 
of straight sailing. The weather was excellent 
and we picked up a good trade wind the second 
day out. As we had followed the coast to a 
large extent we rather looked forward to pass- 
ing over that wide expanse. Pangs of home- 
sickness had long since left and we were just 
beginning to understand ship life so that we 
were able to enjoy it. Jim, who had long since 


Seventy-nil 


SEA GRIST 


recovered from his spree, was working on the 
separator. He remembered nothing except 
that he was drunk, and that Bill sat up with 
him until daylight. We had a great deal of fun 
over Bill’s actions that night, as he had been 
afraid that Jim would fall overboard in one 
of his sudden fits. Jim was not such a bad 
fellow to get along with when we understood 
him. We worked together on the oil separator 
for a number of weeks, having not the slight- 
est bit of trouble. At the beginning of the trip 
he had been like the First, hard to dope out. 
He was much unlike the First, though, as we 
could understand him and his intentions, while 
with the latter, we still remained in doubt. 

As the time went on we were able to realize 
more of a fraternal spirit with the fellows in 
our fok’sl, leaving our belongings lying around 
without any thought of theft. There was a 
certain feeling between the six of us in our 
fok’sl, too, that did not exist between other 
members of the crew, and we were rather con- 
scious of it. When off duty we would lie in 
our bunks and discuss abstract things and pon- 
der problems which did not seem to interest 
anyone else. After chow every evening a cer- 
tain four or five fellows from amidships paid 


Eighty 


SEA GRIST 


US a visit, and among them was sometimes the 
First. On the first of these visits Bill and I 
hesitated to enter any discussion on account of 
our opposite views, especially as the First 
seemed somewhat radical. He took the oppo- 
site side for the sake of argument, we soon 
learned, then we threw all discretion to the 
winds. Our arguments seldom became heated, 
and were usually carried on in a casual man- 
ner. Talk drifted from one topic to another; 
sometimes on labor problems, and at times 
even on religion. These fellows had no re- 
ligion to speak of, except their own con- 
sciences, and these were usually so hard and 
calloused that they gave their desires and pas- 
sions full sway. Any inhibitory influence 
seemed to agitate matters a good deal and I 
soon learned not to talk of it. They tabooed 
any form of religion, saying that every church- 
goer is a hypocrite and feigns to live up to his 
creed. All creeds grew from a few religious 
fanatics with a following, until our churches 
are what they are today — institutions not of 
thrift, but of waste, taxing the poor people for 
expensive edifices, draining from them money 
that should go for food and clothing. 


Eighty-! 


SEA GRIST 


In talking of these things, Bill’s and my 
arguments seemed frail against the age and ex- 
perience of the Gang, who had seen the world 
and knew. At the same time I admired these 
fellows for the plucky way in which they faced 
life; their reliance fully upon themselves, with 
no thought of the Divine. The thought came 
to me at the time that men such as these had no 
reason of their own to call upon Deity. It was 
some frail, sickly person leading a lonely and 
thoughtful life, that ever approached the Great 
Truth close enough to reap any benefit. Then 
it came to me again that one leading a spiritual 
life comes in contact with the softer vibrations 
of this life. How did these men exist and not 
recognize the Divine Presence? They seemed 
fully as happy and contented as the person 
who follows out and lives a spiritual life. The 
keynote was this: selfishness reigned supreme 
aboard. Every man was looking out strictly 
for his own interests in life, and if anyone in- 
terfered there was an immediate fight. No one 
was doing anything for anyone else. 

On the other hand the man of Spirit takes 
keen enjoyment in planning a surprise or some 
benefit for a friend. He gloats in anticipation 
over seeing his friend’s eyes widen and his 


Eighty-l 


SEA GRIST 


smile broaden. To him it is keen enjoyment, 
his big kick from life. As he is looking after 
another, he has no occasion to go to battle for 
his own interests. As is said in the Gospel of 
St. John : “Greater love hath no man than this, 
that a man lay down his life for his friends.” 

The absence of women tends toward degen- 
eracy. We had not seen any women to speak of 
for several weeks, and in my notion their ab- 
sence grew conspicuous. Having never been 
out of their influence until now, I was at a loss 
to account for my hardened feelings. This was 
only too true, as I was inwardly conscious that 
a change had come over my disposition and my 
attitude toward life in general. To my ship- 
mates loss of life or limb did not amount to 
very much. What at home would have been 
the subject of discussion for weeks, no notice 
was taken of. My thoughts became similar to 
theirs, and so at this period were a peculiar 
mixture of shattered ideals. 

I at length arrived at the point when I did 
not attend the discussion, which were growing 
less frequent. My attitude became more 
thoughtful, and I spent many of my evenings 
reading in the mess-room. My mood occa- 
sionally changed, however, as at times I would 


Eighty-three 


SEA GRIST 


return to listen to some exciting sea tale pic- 
tured by one of the Gang. These were usually 
well told, highly colored narratives, expressed 
by the rolling of the eyes or various contortions 
of the hands, and intensely interesting. The 
Gang sat around in various postures, smoking 
quietly and occasionally spitting into the go- 
boon, seldom taking thier eyes from the 
speaker. 

On one particular evening I became tired 
reading and dropped in to see what new turn 
had come into the conversation. I was greeted 
with scowls at the noise I had made in coming 
in. The only noise had been the steering en- 
gine and the faint combination of sounds from 
the engine-room, which were faint indeed with 
the fok’sl door closed. The usual crowd was 
present; also a newcomer, and when I saw that 
he was telling one of his experiences I sank 
quietly on to my bunk and prepared to listen. 
The speaker was a well-educated Norwegian 
of huge build and apparently in his middle for- 
ties. A water-tender by his union card, and a 
man of few words. As his story made a par- 
ticular impression upon my mind, I will relate 
it here, as near as I can remember it. The fact 


Eighty-four 


SEA GRIST 


that we knew so little about him made his tale 
of unusual interest. 

“I was a lad of perhaps fifteen years when 
fate caused me to ship out from ’Frisco on the 
four masted schooner Nelly, bound for Monte- 
video, which is on the east coast of South 
America. This meant of course that we would 
round the Horn, making an eight or nine 
months’ trip in fair weather. It was my first 
trip at sea, and my duties as cabin-boy became 
unbearable with increasing seasickness. In 
those days the men were more brutal and the 
treatment that I received from the hands of the 
Skipper was like a thorn in the flesh. The men 
either took no notice of me at all, or made 
sport of me in the cruelest manner possible. 
They made life such a continual Hell that many 
times I contemplated suicide, the fear of the 
consequences should I not be successful being 
the only thing that held me in check. One 
dark night I stole from my bunk, my head in 
a whirl, and made for the galley rail. I do not 
remember my intentions, but while passing the 
mate’s room muffled but excited voices brought 
me to a dead standstill. My inclination to listen 
overcame my fear of being caught, and as I 
stood there I quaked like a leaf in Autumn, 


Eighty-6ve 


SEA GRIST 


ready to bolt at an instant’s notice. The Skip- 
per and the Mate were planning to scuttle the 
ship somewhere off the Columbian coast. The 
Mate demanded half of the heavily insured 
cargo, but was flatly refused. The argument 
ended in a light scuffle, then all was still. I 
waited no longer, but sought my bunk with 
unsteady nerves. 

“The next morning when the Mate did not 
show up no questions were asked and the work 
was resumed quite as if nothing had occurred, 
excepting for the change of three men. I was 
transferred to the seamen’s quarters and im- 
mediately took up my duties in that respect. 
Although I knew little or nothing about a sail- 
ing vessel I was surprised with the way I 
learned so quickly. The men took me as a 
matter of fact and in their sordid manner 
taught me many tricks that a seaman must 
know. The work was extremely hard. My 
muscles were soft and although I was a good- 
sized lad for my age I suffered severely from 
my exertions. However, I was pleased with 
the quickness with which I learned and hoped 
to make use of the knowledge some day by 
mastering a vessel of my own. 


Eighty-sij 


SEA GRIST 


“I had thought much of the conversation I 
had overheard some nights previous, and it 
worried me not a good deal. The Skipper con- 
templated, no doubt, scuttling the ship as he 
had originally planned, and making away in an 
open boat. With the Mate out of the way he 
had nothing to fear and could have the entire 
amount for himself. We were then approach- 
ing the Republic of Panama and would soon 
be in the likely territory. At every opportunity 
I watched him narrowly, but neither his foul 
speech or his actions threw any light on the 
matter whatever. By this time the men had 
ceased their ignoble tormenting to some extent 
and I thought that I might take one or two 
into my confidence, and with a little planning 
save the ship, at the same time getting rid of 
the despicable Skipper. A hazy plan had form- 
ulated in my young brain, and had I been able 
to carry it out, I think it would have been suc- 
cessful. 

“We had encountered fair weather all the 
way and were anticipating the same weather 
until we at least reached the coast of Chile. 
We had barely passed the bay of Panama, 
when suddenly without any notice the weather 
changed. Our former breeze, which had 


Eighty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


Struck US almost astern, swung with steady 
increase until it came from the southwest. The 
growing waves were lashed into foaming 
whitecaps and the ship began to toss about like 
a cork. Confusion reigned supreme. The 
Skipper bellowed orders from the deck and the 
men scrambled like monkeys up to the cross- 
trees. I was ordered to reef the foresail. I 
had been aloft in calm weather, but never be- 
fore had I seen such immense walls of water. 
I staggered up the swinging mast, clutching 
desperately at my thin support; the ship lung- 
ing suddenly, threatened to fling me into space. 
I made the crosstrees without mishap, but to 
climb out the peak-halyards to the end of the 
gaff was an exceedingly hazardous perform- 
ance even in calm weather. Looking down 
ninety feet to the dripping deck, made me 
giddy, and I nearly lost my balance. It seemed 
that I was not on the ship but some giant air 
craft of my own swinging gracefully this way 
and that, ever gathering momentum for one 
great swing, which never came. 

“A rasping order rose up from the mist 
and coming darkness, ordering me to proceed 
to the end of the gaff. Trembling from head 
to foot and with a weak feeling in the pit of 


Eighty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


my stomach, I crawled out on the swinging gaff 
like a fly on the slippery surface of a needle, 
every instant expecting to be hurled off. The 
foresail was literally booming in the gale. It 
would slacken, then hesitate before falling out, 
making cannon-like reports which shook the 
ship from bow to stern. Clinging recklessly 
with my legs, in some way I cleared the sheet 
and took the proper reefs. The wind roared 
and whipped the lashings, and blew spray from 
the ugly night into my face and away again. 
The ship was heavily laden to her high line 
with valuable merchandise and waddled 
through the heavy sea in a clumsy manner. I 
was the last man aloft, the rest having accom- 
plished their work in double-quick time. My 
fingers bleeding and sore, I made the cross- 
trees in safety and started to descend the mast, 
the brunt of the gale twisting and flattening my 
body against the support. Upon reaching the 
end of the rope ladder a new danger surround- 
ed me in the form of rushing black waters, 
which leapt over the deck with surprising 
quickness. I noticed also that the hatches had 
been tightly battened down and the deadlights 
secured, but not a man was in sight. 


Eighty-nil 


SEA GRIST 


“As I clung to the mast watching my 
chance to make a dash for the galley, a chill 
ran through me which seemed to wrack every 
nerve in my body. The strain that I had been 
under was enormous and by nerves seemed to 
be grating on the edges of fine steel. My chance 
had come at last; a lull in the storm had tem- 
porarily parted the waters into a wide pathway 
for about my calculated distance. Summoning 
the last ounce of my remaining energy I strove 
to accomplish my distance. I had covered 
two-thirds of the way and my path was still 
unobstructed, then with great suddenness I 
was completely surrounded by a wall of foam- 
ing, rushing black water. I was overwhelmed 
by the brute force and strength of it. Merci- 
lessly I was hurled and twirled across the 
foaming deck, occasionally striking heavy ob- 
stacles in our path. 

“By this time the gale had reached the 
heighth of its fury, and moaned its cruel inten- 
tions until the whole ship shuddered and shook 
from bow to stern with the fear of it. Prac- 
tically in a state of unconsciousness, I struck 
the donkey boiler, and part of my clothing 
caught in the control lever, holding tempor- 
arily. I was scarcely conscious, except of bod- 


Ninety 


SEA GRIST 


ily bruises, when two men in oilskins crept out 
on the boom with a lantern to my rescue. 

‘The storm was still raging when I came 
to consciousness the following day and found 
myself securely strapped in my bunk, with a 
rough improvised bandage around my head. 
I was still physically and mentally exhausted 
and it seemed strangely pleasant to lie still. 
At times I entertained a fleeting vision of my- 
self suspended high up in the air, swinging as 
on a pendulum above some yawning abyss. 
My condition lived itself out in two days, and 
the third day, with the storm somewhat abated, 
I stood a short wheel watch with the new Mate. 
The disappearance of the last Mate I had never 
dared mention, as his fate had been sealed 
from the start. 

“On the fourth day the storm ceased en- 
tirely and I laid my plans to watch the Skipper 
all that night, as it would be his first opportu- 
nity to scuttle the ship. We were about five 
miles out, with the tropical, sandy shore in 
plain view, and still on the Columbian coast, 
a most excellent place to do the dirty work. 
How I loathed the Skipper! The sight of him 
almost made me see red. To think that a man 




SEA GRIST 


would sacrifice his ship and his men for a few 
thousand dollars ! 

“Well, to shorten the story, the Captain, 
watching his chance, ignited a fuse attached 
to several powder kegs in the forward hold. 
Taking the second watch himself, he sent the 
Mate below and set the course toward open 
sea, then made over the side in a small tender. 
He was no more than gone, when I hastened to 
the forward hold and snuffed out the long fuse 
and threw it overboard. I hastily called the 
Mate, who summoned the rest of the crew on 
deck and we held a hasty council. All were 
furious and were bent on immediate revenge, 
except the new Mate, who took command. He 
was farsighted and formulated a plan that we 
put into immediate action. Although an old 
sea dog, he was a genius, and his eyes sparkled 
as he looked forward to revenge. He set the 
men making a large raft and as soon as it was 
launched placed on it three powder kegs. The 
affair was lighted with a long fuse and set 
adrift to assure the Captain that his good ship 
Nelly had been blown to atoms. 

“Turning about, our sails were filled with 
a favorable breeze, and we were on our way to 
’Frisco. I might say that the attitude of the 


Ninety-tiro 


SEA GRIST 


men toward me had changed considerably. 
Although I worked as seaman until we reached 
port, there was not a thing that I could not 
have. I believe that if I had insisted I could 
have lived in the Captain’s spacious cabin. At 
length after two months’ run of much unfav- 
orable wind, we entered the great Golden Gate. 
It seemed as though I had been gone several 
years, instead of nearly four months. 

“We learned a little later that the Captain 
had returned to demand his insurance. The 
underwriters, doubting his hard-luck story, 
were scouring the coast for any information 
concerning the Nelly. Finding the Nelly right 
in San Francisco bay was impossible, but we 
held the evidence to prove it and lost no time 
in doing so. Revenge is sweet, I tell you, es- 
pecially when one can look through the bars 
and taunt the victim, telling him just how his 
plans failed. I think to this day if the old 
Captain were living and recognized me, he 
would shoot on sight. At any rate we all got 
our revenge, but that was not all : the under- 
writers upon hearing my story made me a 
handsome present of five hundred dollars.” 

It was a late hour when he finished, so after 
some commenting and much yawning and 
stretching our visitors left and we turned in. 


Ninety-three 



CHAPTER V 

The Chief Gets a Haircut 

N THE following evening a most amusing 
thing happened. All the men off duty 
were sitting around and on top of number four 
hatch. It being fine weather some one had 
dragged the phonograph out with a number of 
late records, and started a lively air. The men 
all seemed in the mood for fun and even the 
First seemed in unusual good nature as he 
joked with the Chief and the Second. He was 
fondling the Chiefs beard and shaggy head, 
the Chief giving him a poke in return, when it 
was mentioned that the Chief needed a hair- 
cut. Now when my kind parents had packed 
my bag they had been thoughtful enough to lay 
in a small pair of barber’s clippers. I told the 
Chief that I would cut his hair if he would 
only make our work a little easier. This raised 
a general laugh and the Chief good-naturedly 
consented. 

When I returned with the fatal instrument 
the First whispered to me to ‘‘cut his crop close 


Ninety-fire 


SEA GRIST 


all over.” I had never cut hair before in my 
life, and I was between two fires. I wanted to 
please the First, but if I did I knew the Chief 
would be furious. I stalled for a while, getting 
a box for the Chief to sit upon, and by this 
time the Gang had formed a circle to watch the 
fun. Hesitatingly I started at the middle of 
the forehead and awkardly cut a straight path 
to the back of his head. He did not realize 
what I had done until he put up his hand to 
feel the damage, then he flew into a great rage. 
Jumping off the box he gave it a vicious kick 
and made a lunge for my head. Luckily I 
had been anticipating just what happened, so 
dodged the blow and broke through the circle. 
The whole thing was so perfectly ridiculous 
that the men burst into convulsive shouts and 
laughter, urging me to stop and finish the job. 

As all good things must end, this ended 
abruptly when the First saw that it had gone 
far enough. The Chief being unable to catch 
me, was egged on by the men until he thought 
his life depended upon getting me by the 
throat. The First saved the day for me by 
standing in his path. I was quite out of breath 
and generally disgusted with the thing I had 
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SEA GRIST 


should the Chief lay hands on me quite over- 
ruled my other thoughts. The guffaw ceased 
as the Chief tried to push the First to one side. 
From my position I saw the glint of steel in the 
First’s eye, for he was a man unused to oppo- 
sition of any sort. The Chief seeing how the 
situation stood, relaxed his attitude and in a 
few minutes resumed his position on the box. 
The First certainly was diplomatic in the way 
he handled him. It was only a short time when 
they were laughing and joking again, the First 
telling him that he was to blame for the fracas 
and not me. Giving me the wink he took the 
clippers which I was still clutching and re- 
sumed my job, practically shaving the Chiefs 
head all over, until he looked like the member 
of some chain gang. This brought more shouts, 
and when he ran his hand over his bristly 
dome, a broad grim spread over his face. The 
box vacated, “Next” was heard, and soon the 
shaved head became quite the style. 

There was one thing that had bothered me 
a great deal of late. Its seriousness did not 
seem apparent at first, but as the time wore on 
I became quite alarmed. It was about Bill. 
He had been eating little or nothing for three 
days and went about his work in a half-hearted 


Ninety-seven 


SEA GRIST 


manner. Towards the end of his index finger 
on his right hand had formed what seemed to 
be a large spider bite, which had continued 
swelling for several days, until his whole finger 
seemed infected. It looked like a bad case of 
blood poisoning. We worked on it together 
until it seemed impossible for him to go 
about his duties — then I took it up with 
the First. He was very agreeable and 
told him to knock off until he felt 
better. This did not change the conditions 
much, as Bill lay in his hammock all day on 
the deck, which gave him a chance to brood 
over his trouble and think of home. Matters 
dragged for several days, conditions growing 
slightly worse. Bill’s work in the engine-room 
fell upon Jim and me and at times we were 
forced to work over-time to get through. 

By the end of the week Bill seemed in an 
almost pitiable condition. I bathed him every 
night before turning in and he was scarcely 
able to stand long enough for me to do it. I 
decided that something must be done, so I went 
to see the First, who came aft to see just how 
bad Bill really was. He decided at once that 
the finger should be lanced, and gave me orders 
to get hot water and towels and bring them to 


Ninety-eight 


SEA GRIST 


his room. The thought of having his finger 
opened made Bill sick, and part walking and 
part leaning on the First he managed to reach 
amidships. When I reached the First’s room 
a little later, the Steward, the Chief and the 
Skipper had gathered there for a little excite- 
ment apparently, to watch the gory perform- 
ance. Between spats of tobacco juice into the 
goboon, the Skipper was telling a bloody tale 
involving mangled bodies and loss of life. Bill 
sat in a chair by the First’s bunk, with his eyes 
closed, vainly trying not to listen. The Chief 
would usually go the Skipper one better, and 
I do not know how it would have ended had 
the First not stopped the contest. 

I will not attempt to describe the cutting 
itself, as it makes me downcast when I think 
of it. Bill simply gritted his teeth, and with 
eyes closed after it was over, shuddered from 
head to foot, uttering no exclamations of pain 
whatever, which I think disappointed the 
Skipper as well as the Chief. I tell you I was 
proud of Bill and I lost no words in telling 
them so. After putting a soap poultice on the 
hand and dressing it, the First and I carried 
him aft and put him to bed. Very gradually 
he began to improve, and though still very 




SEA GRIST 


weak he was out on the deck the third day 
after the operation. I cannot explain my joy 
at seeing him on his feet once more. Every 
evening when the First came off watch we 
would go to his room and the hand would be 
dressed with a new poultice and bandaged up 
securely until the next night. Although the 
swelling did not go down immediately, the dis- 
colored nail dropped off and the whole hand 
showed every indication of improvement. In 
all Bill was laid off a little over a month, and 
part of each evening of that month was spent 
in the First’s room. 

To me the First was not human. The way 
in which he managed his work, his men, and 
even the Skipper, was superhuman. I remem- 
ber one day he sent me on the topside to turn 
the fireman’s ventilator with a big Stiltson. 
The paint was fresh on the gear and the only 
way I could turn it was to apply the wrench. 
The wind had changed and it was almost un- 
bearable in the fire-room, so it was up to me to 
supply the fresh air. The Skipper coming out 
of his cabin noticed my actions, and gave me 
a good “once over” before I had a chance to 
turn it. The First must have thought I was 
taking a “blow” so came up just in time to 


One Hundred 


SEA GRIST 


see the performance. Guessing what the trou- 
ble was, he grasped the Stiltson from my hand 
and applied it to the gear, turning the venti- 
lator to the wind. The Skipper uttered vehe- 
ment protests, but he might as well have saved 
his wind. The First just glared at him and 
ordered me below, following later. 

The psychologists say that the human mind 
resembles a pie, in this respect: certain pieces 
are labeled the things which we know — the last 
and largest piece is blank. It accounts for the 
things which we do, without knowing how or 
why we do them. It may be impulse, but we 
do not know just why or where that impulse 
generates. I was sitting in the mess-room one 
evening reading. A couple of card games were 
in full swing and there was so much confusion 
that I was unable to read. Suddenly I recalled 
to mind a rather pathetic story told to me the 
day previous by an old Belgian sailor, concern- 
ing a shipmate of his. The shipmate, dead 
drunk, had been mistaken for a victim of small- 
pox and had been carted to a vault and en- 
tombed with many dead. He recovered suffi- 
ciently a day or so after his spree, and rose 
from his pine box only to find himself in a 
grey stone, dimly lighted vault. Becoming 


One Hundred One 


SEA GRIST 


terrified he dropped the lid, the noise of which 
is supposed to have frightened him to death. 
The first few lines of a poem flashed to my 
now enthralled imagination, and as I snatched 
a pencil and paper it grew : 

Dan Maaru 

Damp and gloomy, Oh! so gloomy, 

Was the grave of Dan Maaru. 

There was coffin piled on coffin, 

He was last, the next is you. 

He thought he died of dandruff. 

But the doctor said t’was booze. 

They could not live without him. 

But tVas not for them to choose. 

Damp and gloomy. Oh ! so gloomy. 

Were the thoughts of Dan Maaru, 

As he lay there in his coffin. 

Thinking, thinking, perhaps of you. 

Not conscious of the presence 

Of his stiff brothers, so close about. 

Some had died of fever. 

But the most had died of gout. 


One Hundred Two 


SEA GRIST 


Damp and gloomy, Oh ! so gloomy, 

Sat on the lid above Dan Maaru. 

I think tVas the devil’s angel. 

Whispering the keyhole through. 

For soon it was delivered. 

And the angel stole quiety away. 

What was to become of Dan Maaru? 

Even the angel did not stay. 

Damp and gloomy. Oh! so gloomy. 

Laid the stiffs near Dan Maaru. 

He thought he was to join them. 

So from the angel he took his cue. 

Very slowly the lid was lifted. 

Rusty hinges shrieked and groaned. 

Now quite sure he was to join them. 

When he heard a ghastly moan. 

Damp and gloomy. Oh! so gloomy. 

Were the thoughts of Dan Maaru; 

As he sat there in his coffin. 

Limp of heart, and hair askew. 

His pallid face bore a look of sorrow. 

His fine hands were the color of lead. 

He looked about in a pitiful fashion. 

Then dropped the lid, and felt quite dead. 


One Hundred Three 


SEA GRIST 


I cannot say whether the poem was in- 
spired; whether the art was handed me by 
heredity, or whether a spirit guide whispered 
it into my ear. At any event I wrote it and it 
gave me pleasure to know that I, Slippery, a 
wiper on the old Havilah, was sufficiently ad- 
vanced in knowledge to actually have poetry 
flow from the end of my pen. 

Twelve days out from Saint Thomas we 
experienced another breakdown, similar to the 
first. We were peacefully eating at evening 
mess when the engines stopped quite suddenly. 
Jim, who sat across the table from me eating 
laboriously with his head close to his plate, 
looked up suddenly. A look somewhat of fear 
passed over his greasy countenance. If we 
had to go through the whole thing again as 
we had done last time, it would indeed be very 
disagreeable. Washed, and in my only clean 
suit of dungarees, I went below, experiencing 
the same feelings that I had had on the pre- 
vious breakdown. This time, however, there 
was less excitement and we went about our 
work methodically. The First and myself took 
off the plate, while the “Deck” and Jim rustled 
tools. By all indications several of the brass 
flappers had been snapped off. The First took 


One Hundred Four 


SEA GRIST 


the entire bar out and inside of twenty min- 
utes it was back in place and the plate was 
screwed on. It was quick time, even the Chief 
admitted, for we had stopped just thirty min- 
utes, by my watch. 

That night the Chief issued a bulletin and 
posted them in every conspicuous place pos- 
sible. We were running low on water and no 
one could take a bath, or wash clothes, until 
we reached Glasgow. This was sad news for 
me as I was badly in need of a bath and I had 
not washed clothes for several days. It was a 
Godsend, indeed, when a southwester struck 
us about two days from the northern coast of 
Ireland. The Chief called Jim and me out of 
our bunks at midnight to block up the port 
and starboard runway, catching torrents of 
water. The Chief even sent me on the top- 
side to uncover the Captain’s tender, that it 
might fill with the precious fiuid. It was not a 
bad storm. Had it been we should have caught 
much salt water as well as fresh. 

In the center of each blocked runway was 
a pipe which when opened fed the boilers with 
water, through the deep tanks. It was these 
that the Chief wanted filled, as our former 
supply would have lasted no longer than a 


One Hundred Five 


SEA GRIST 


day. I tell you it was cold working out there 
with no oilskins ; up to our knees in water, with 
large brooms, pushing as much water as pos- 
sible near the narrow throat of the pipe. Had 
the pipe been of a larger size it would have 
been a simple matter; as it was, the roll of the 
ship carried the bulk of the water away before 
it had time to gurgle through the small opening 
into the tanks below. The storm blew over the 
following day and the Chief announced that 
we would, with strict economy, have enough 
water to get into port. 

Late that afternoon we sighted our first 
land in fifteen days. Although it was nothing 
more than a high black rock, hardly discern- 
able to the naked eye, it was land. I began to 
realize more than ever what it was to live on 
a floating home. What was it but a small world 
within a world, occasionally coming in contact 
with outside bodies? It would be two days at 
least before we would be in the Clyde, as we 
had to round the northern part of Ireland, and 
it was rough to say the least. The air pump 
broke down four times that afternoon, each 
time stopping about twenty minutes. It made 
us hustle, as every minute lost blew us off our 
course and nearer the rugged coast. The Skip- 


one Hundred Six 


SEA GRIST 


per was in a rage and cussed and discussed the 
Chief and the whole Black Gang. If he should 
lose the ship, we would be at fault. 

The following morning, which was Sun- 
day, we broke down again, this time stopping 
an hour, practically overhauling the air pump. 
It was with a feeling of satisfaction that we 
screwed the plate on this time, as the First 
said it was repaired for good. With this good 
news and the fact that we would be sailing up 
the Clyde after another day, the spirits of the 
men rose. Where there had been former 
grumbling at the extra work and many break- 
downs, it was forgotten. The men looked for- 
ward to going ashore and getting “tanked” 
and spending their money on the first conces- 
sion, be it a woman or a wine shop. 

Having nothing to do in particular after the 
breakdown, I helped the Steward take inven- 
tory and figure up a few extensions. It seemed 
like old times to do a little figuring again, and 
I not only enjoyed it but I learned a good deal. 
The “Stew” put me wise to the job in case I 
ever cared to ship out as Steward, which he 
thought I might. When I went on my two- 
hour watch that afternoon the First was in a 
peculiar mood. He called me up on the plat- 


One Hundred Seven 


SEA GRIST 


form before I had half finished and told me to 
‘‘knock off.” As I started up the ladder, he 
called me back. “Say, Slip! let me see those 
sun goggles of yours.” I did not imagine what 
he was driving at. When I returned he was 
sitting at the throttle with an old linen duster 
salvaged from the rags in the bunker, and 
smoking a small corn-cob pipe. The large 
glasses on the end of his nose gave the desired 
effect. I humored him, I believe, by laughing 
considerably. I could not imagine the First 
Assistant Engineer acting up like this. When 
I reached the topside I saw the Chief looking 
down through the engine-room skylight and 
chuckling to himself. 

The next day the news came out that we 
would overhaul the port boiler while in Glas- 
gow. This did not strike me as peculiar, as I 
knew little or nothing about boilers. We were 
discussing the work on deck at noon that day, 
and I said something about that not being 
much of a job. 

“Much of a job?” piped up Hal, the first 
watch fireman, angrily. “Say, brother, did 
you ever look at the back of a boiler with the 
doors off? There’s about four hundred in- 
verted cups to be knocked in, and six inches 


One Hundred Eight 


SEA GRIST 


behind that are about as many tubes which 
have to be turbined. The tubes are as big 
around as your arm, and fourteen feet long. 
Oh no, that’s not much of a job with steam 
under the other two boilers.” 

“But I don’t know a thing about boiler 
work,” I protested. “The Chief wouldn’t put 
me at that.” 

“Like Hell! You’ll soon learn though. 
That’s not all, either. The cups have to be 
drawn up into place by a chain after the tubes 
have been turbined, and rolled by a hand cup 
roller. If any of the cups leak after there is 
steam under her, you guys’ll have to roll ’em 
until they don’t; and when you get that done 
up behind the boiler you come down in the fire- 
room and pull out split tubes. You guys are 
sure in for it,” and he gave a great sigh as if 
we were indeed in a pitiable position. I told 
Jim about it and he just nodded and said it 
was all true. I began to look forward to the 
work with dread, and as I remembered my ex- 
perience with boiler work at Saint Thomas, a 
cloud seemed to blot out all my future 
pleasures. 

I spent the afternoon working with the 
“Deck” cleaning the slides on the winches. 


One Hundred Nine 


SEA GRIST 


This is always done on any steam going vessel, 
except an oil tanker, preparatory to reaching 
port with cargo. There are usually two winches 
to every hatch, which when attached to the 
long adjustable boom by cable, hoists the cargo 
from the hold to the warehouse or dock. The 
sailors were busy lifting the booms and at- 
taching different tackles and blocks to the 
mast. It was interesting to watch them as they 
scampered nimbly aloft with their different 
gear, until I was sharply reminded by the 
Chief that I had work of my own to do. 

That evening after passing the North Chan- 
nel we began to see blinking lighthouses on 
either side, each some four miles apart. The 
lights of small bobbing sail boats crossed our 
path, and a number of times we nearly ran one 
down, as their lights became obscured by the 
choppy sea. A soft but cool land breeze struck 
us on the broadside, carrying odors of green 
pastures and things of the wild. I stood on 
the prow alone watching and listening, alert 
for any new impression. I had become so ac- 
customed to the faint swish of the water as it 
was parted and went gurgling by, that it 
seemed a part of the ship’s noise, as the ticking 
of a clock in time becomes a part of the deaf- 


One Hundred Ten 


SEA GRIST 


ening silence. Many sounds on the ship reg- 
ister mechanically upon the ear, and not until 
new sounds occur do we become conscious of 
the old. The whole thing seemed very unreal. 
Here I was about to enter into Scotland, of 
all places. When somewhat younger I had 
always stood in awe at seeing anyone who had 
traveled either in the Orient or the Old Coun- 
try. Now I stood in awe almost when I thought 
of entering, myself, into that country. 

Off to the right I could see the faint twink- 
ling of many electric lights, apparently a small 
village on the hillside. A long arm reached 
out protecting the town from the assault of 
malicious weather, peppered with miniature, 
fog-blurred lights. As we slowly neared the 
place I could discern a small object approach- 
ing, carrying a red and green lantern, which 
I took to be the pilot boat. To think that we 
were about to communicate with these strange 
people and perhaps receive mail from home. 
In spite of our future boiler work, I was 
cheered at the latter prospect. In a short time 
they were alongside, a high hooded gasoline 
boat, with shiny brass and noisy engines. I 
reached amidships in time to see a small ruddy- 
faced man clamber briskly up the rope ladder 


One Hundred Eleven 


SEA GRIST 


and over the side, pulling two mail pouches up 
behind him by a rope. Our telegraph was set 
at half ahead and the little man on the launch 
had a hard time to keep ahold of the ladder 
with the gaff. Our Skipper was bellowing 
something at the other Skipper, whose shouts 
were scarcely discernable above the clang of 
the smaller boat. The proper etiquette of the 
sea performed, the smaller boat departed and 
we continued toward the Firth of the Clyde. 

The following morning Jim and I were 
awakened before daybreak by the Chief, and 
ordered below to get tools. The steam line to 
the first set of winches forward had split, and 
the three of us set about to replace the injured 
pipe and put in new gaskets. I was indeed 
glad of the opportunity of being on deck as I 
witnessed I believe one of the most beautiful 
sunrises the human mind could possibly con- 
ceive. Very slowly the darkness melted into 
a soft grey haze, which grew steadily brighter. 
A splurge of red tinted the low eastern sky, 
increasing gradually until it seemed concen- 
trated in one spot beneath a skyline of rolling 
black hills. The objects about us began to take 
shape and I saw that we were winding up a 
wide river, on either side rolling pastures of 


One Hundred Twelve 


colorless velvet. The light expanded some- 
what tardily over an oval sky, pulling the 
blood-red lips of the sun god over the horizon. 
The effect was overpowering. Objects attained 
translucent hues, made brighter by the con- 
trast of their shadows. Green meadows, with 
occasional patches of woods, slid by; or a cliff 
here and there partly moss-covered, and on its 
top an old-time Scottish castle, grey with age, 
but still in servicable condition. The air was 
crisp and the steady cool breeze made the dew 
sparkle merrily on the surrounding green. 

By time for morning mess we had the pipe 
repaired, and the Chief told us that we might 
knock off until ten o’clock. The crew off watch 
congregated mainly on the poop and stood in 
silent awe at the new passing scenery. A small 
brook or tributary bubbled through an occa- 
sional moss-covered mill wheel, its owner 
sometimes seen standing at the doorway or 
fussing in a quaint little garden at the rear. 
In an hour’s time the river grew less in width 
and we began to approach more farms and at 
times other curious looking stone castles sur- 
rounded by a moat and drawbridge. At length 
when the river narrowed so that three ships 
of our size would scarcely be able to pass, two 


One Hundred Thirteen 


SEA GRIST 


side wheeler tugs met us, one towing and the 
other keeping our aft end from sliding into the 
low muddy banks. 

For two miles along either side of the 
river extended what seemed like acres of ships 
somewhere in the process of completion. It 
was one tangle of high wooden supports for 
keels, bows and sterns. About every make of 
steamship made was in dry dock, or waiting 
for some kind of repairs. It was all intensely 
interesting; ships of all kinds and descriptions, 
hailing from every port in the world. The 
racket from the hundreds of riveting machines 
in operation sounded like a platoon of light 
artillery firing alternately. As we approached 
the city proper, we ran into a smoky haze 
which dimmed the sun occasionally, until at 
last it was entirely blotted out. The army of 
ships and their skeletons thinned out slowly, 
and factories gradually took their place. A 
group of several working men could be seen 
standing at the edge of every interrupted 
street, waiting for the angry puffing little ferry 
to connect them with the opposite side. 

For the past three days I had been shining 
the steel hand rails at the top grating of the 
engine-room. I would no more than get them 


One Hundred Fourteen 


done when a misting rain would spring from a 
clear sky and in a few hours they would be 
rusted again. To shut the heavy sky windows 
would make the engine-room unbearable, so 
I polished and repolished several times. As I 
turned to at ten o’clock another dismal rain 
sprang up, and I faced the prospect of emery- 
ing the fresh red rust from the burnished sur- 
face once more. The whole thing was most 
disgusting. Immediately I thought of enam- 
eling them. It was no sooner said than done. 
Just before we docked the First happened to 
step in on the grating for something, and 
watched me put on the finishing touches. His 
eyes began to dilate and he looked me over 
with a frowning glare of disapproval. “Who 
in the Devil told you to do that. Slip?” I 
merely shook my head and watched his expres- 
sion. His mouth turned into a confined grin. 
“That’s the best idea you ever had. Slip. You 
and Jim better knock off for the afternoon.” 

I could have cried for joy, as I had ex- 
pected to begin the dreaded boiler work that 
afternoon. Running aft I sought out Jim and 
we immediately made our plans. We were tied 
up to Queen’s dock among dozens of other 
ships of our size unloading cargo. The ware- 


one Hundred Fifteen 


SEA GRIST 


houses paralleled the docks on both sides of 
the narrow river, and every bollard held a 
ship’s hawser, making all space full. The decks 
of every ship, including our own, were littered 
with hatch coverings, flying booms, tackles, 
cables and tarpaulins. The stevedores, or long- 
shoremen, were already aboard our ship test- 
ing the winches and equipment for unloading. 
They were mostly small men of ruddy face, 
muscular and very businesslike. The com- 
plexion, like most Celtic peoples, was not only 
fair, but delicate. The most bearded men wore 
a red nose and almost a schoolgirl lineament. 

We resented somewhat these strangers 
coming aboard our home, for indeed it did 
seem like a home. We had been aboard her 
long enough now to become perfectly familiar 
with her outlay, and even intimate with some 
of the officers. These many strange faces 
aboard destroyed that home feeling to a large 
extent. 


One Hundred Sixteen 


CHAPTER VI 

A Sailor’s Life in Glasgow 

5j^IRECTLY after mess Jim and 1, dressed 
in our best — which was not much, clam- 
bered down the steep gang plank to the dock. 
We made our way laboriously to the nearest 
tram line, which was about three blocks dis- 
tant. Neither of us knew the city, so we care- 
fully watched the streets through which we 
passed as we had neglected to find out the 
name of the dock, where our ship lay. Once 
on the main thoroughfare, however, all visions 
of our sea life vanished, and we were a part of 
the bustling throng. 

It is generally known that Glasgow boasts 
the most efficient and cheapest street car sys- 
tem in the world. It is controlled by the Cor- 
poration which owns the cars, also the water, 
gas and electric light, and telephones. All are 
worked, not as money-making scheme, but for 
the benefit of the citizens. The fish, meat, 
cheese and fruit markets, as well as “Paddy’s 


One Hundred Seventeen 


Market,” which deals in old clothes, is also run 
by the Corporation. 

We boarded the first tram, which ran left 
handed down the congested streets. I was 
confronted with a nice looking girl conductor 
who said, “Fare please.” She was dressed in 
green, and wore a large leather belt, which 
supported her change bag. 

Digging down in my jeans I pulled out a 
handful of English change, with which we had 
recently been paid. 

“How much?” I asked, blushing at my ig- 
norance. 

“Thruppence for ye both, but make wey 
fer the other passengers.” We crowded 
closer, and I selected a piece of silver from my 
palm. 

“No, a thruppence,” she said, looking over 
my shoulder at the crowd behind. “You have 
it there,” and she selected it gingerly from the 
other coins in my hand. 

We climbed up the sharply inclined, and 
circular stairway to the upper deck, which was 
enclosed, and found every seat full. Riding 
until we reached High Street and Jamaica 
Street, the center of the city, we dropped off, 
noticing that the car seldom stopped even at 


One Hundred Eighteen 


a crossing, the people climbing aboard on a 
run. The cars maintained a good speed, even 
through the traffic, slowing down to a medium 
walk at crossings. There was no danger in 
boarding, or getting off, as the lower step 
nearly dragged the pavement. 

Jim insisted on a drink, so we entered a 
large mahogany front saloon, with swinging 
doors and fancy colored windows. The place, 
although of good size, was crowded at the 
tables, and at the bar. Elbowing our way up 
we drummed on the polished counter, and 
placed one foot on the accustomed rail. In 
short order the drinks came, and I gargled my 
soda slowly, looking around the place, while 
Jim bolted his whiskey. The place was excel- 
lently furnished, with red leather cushions on 
the high window seats. Tapestried curtains 
draped gracefully over every aperture, and 
around little private tables. An occasional oak 
barrel surrounded by two shining brass bands, 
when cut down and upholstered made a very 
comfortable seat. 

“What is it Jim,” I asked, when we were 
outside, “that makes the people look at us in 
such a peculiar way?” as the approaching 


One Hundred Nineteen 


SEA GRIST 


people would stare, and sometimes when 
passed would turn for another look. 

“I dunno,” he replied, “it must be we are 
the only Americans on the street. You’ll get 
used to that. They do it in any foreign city, 
just as you would turn ’round and look at a 
Highlander in kilts, if you were in the States.” 

The women we could not help but notice. 
Their dress, even that of the girls, seemed so 
out of date. Low, square pointed shoes wear- 
ing a bow, perhaps at the toe, with heavy knit 
or woolen stockings. The dress was sometimes 
plaid or serge, cut usually quite short, the only 
modern thing about them. We must have had 
extravagant tastes, as we missed the finery of 
the American girl, with her silk hose and daint- 
ily shod feet. However, these women were 
pleasing to look upon, in spite of their dress, 
as their complexion redeemed any other fault. 
They would look at us with questioning eyes, 
and once in a while one less shy than the rest 
would smile. 

Our next errand was to find a barber shop, 
and after traversing the city to the far side, 
we finally located a small one with three chairs. 
When the shaved head had been all the rage 
on the ship, I had not entered into the scheme. 

One Hundred Twenty 


SEA GRIST 


consequently my locks hung a considerable dis- 
tance over my sunburned neck. The barber, a 
little man, dressed appropriately in white for 
the operation, shook the shears dangerously 
around my head. From the time he began, 
until the time he had finished, it was just Clip ! 
Clip! Clip! never ceasing even when the 
shears were poised in mid air, ready to de- 
scend! The shave, although not such a haz- 
ardous performance, was quite painful. I took 
it for granted that soap and razor strops were 
very dear in price, as he used little of either. 
Not trusting myself to count the change, I gave 
him a bill which did not look unlike a busi- 
ness college diploma, and in return he thrust 
at me a wad of paper, and a double handful of 
silver and copper coins. I took it on trust that 
the change was all right, and distributed it 
among my many pockets, so that the weight 
would not fall all in one spot. 

Glasgow, the commercial metropolis of 
Scotland, contains within its municipal bound- 
aries, more than a million people. The popu- 
lation, largely of the Celtic element, has been 
drawn from the Western Highlands and Ire- 
land, and conglomerated into a melting pot of 
races, dispositions and tastes. The Scots resent 


One Hundred Twenty-c 


SEA GRIST 


very much the migration into their country by 
the Irish, who are largely of the working class, 
and seem jealous of their success. 

The word Glasgow, which is also of Celtic 
origin, means “the beloved green spot,” and 
can be traced back to a very remote origin. 
One thing that is not only characteristic of 
Glasgow, but of most English-speaking 
cities, is the word limited (Ltd.) , which closely 
follows the name of about every concern, or 
establishment, meaning limited capital. There 
are few large stores, and never such a thing 
as an American department store. Most of 
the buildings are of brown stone or brick, and 
range from three to ten stories. Their fronts 
are not pretentious, neither do they have elec- 
trical advertising scenes, or displays, in their 
windows, as the large American stores. One 
sees little advertising anywhere. The owners 
of the stores, proud and aristocratic people, 
rely almost wholly upon their reputation and 
friends to make known their goods. It has 
been said that Glasgow of today is about as 
advanced as the most democratic city in the 
United States was twenty years ago, which is 
a broad statement to make. 


One Hundred Twenty-two 


SEA GRIST 


It was after dark that evening by the time 
we finished our last errand. The town, al- 
though lighted up and bustling, could not begin 
to compare with our cities. We missed the 
large electrical signs upon the buildings, the 
wide sidewalks, and the cafeterias. Our in- 
clination to eat took us into a dingy little cafe 
upstairs on Argyle street, whose squalor 
nearly ruined our healthy appetite. After a 
hurried meal we left in disgust, determined to 
patronize no more cheap cafes. It was now 
advisable for us to return to the ship as it was 
getting late, but curses! we had forgotten the 
name of the car that would take us back to the 
ship. The streets were choked with people, 
and street cars, but seldom a machine. The 
name of the street car from which we had 
jumped, had faded from our minds. I remem- 
bered passing over the Jamaica street bridge, 
so we passed through the crowd to the nearest 
policeman, and inquired which car passed over 
that structure. Luckily we boarded the right 
car, as the tracks forked in many directions at 
the end of the bridge, and ours took to the 
right and passed under an arched building 
which we remembered. 


One Hundred Twenty-three 


Before leaving that noon we were cau- 
tioned not to return after dark, as just a short 
time before two American sailors had been 
murdered and robbed near Queen’s Docks. 
The lower class of “Blokes or Lime Juicers” 
have little respect for the American, and lose 
no opportunity to get him out of the way. Tak- 
ing all this information lightly at the time, it 
had escaped our minds until we jumped from 
the car, trying to strike our approximate street. 
The night was a dark one, and all of our un- 
certain landmarks were shrouded in a thick 
fog. Straining our eyes we were unable to 
make out the street under the blurred arc light, 
which pierced the fog but faintly with its rays. 
We stumbled along, passing groups of men 
here and there, most of them drunk. No 
women were to be seen. It seemed as though 
every group that passed us were about to at- 
tack. Our imagination continued to punish 
us, until one out of a group blurted out, “Ah! 
see the bloody Yanks.” Being on the outside 
I stiffener automatically, as if expecting a 
charge. At last we recognized a high board 
fence, as it loomed up beside us, giving us our 
bearings. Further along we entered a gate and 
passed over a long foot-bridge, which hung 


One Hundred Twenty-four 


SEA GRIST 


over the railroad yards. We passed but few 
men, and those few we carefully watched for 
the slightest sign of hostility. It was with a 
feeling of relief that we clutched the rope of 
our gang plank, and pulled ourselves aboard. 
The old ship was a home after all — as some 
homes go! A place to go to when there is 
no other. 

Before I entered our fok’sl, I noticed 
through the porthole that ten or twelve of the 
Gang were there, all with a skinful. There 
was loud laughter, scuffling and clinking of 
glasses. I hestitated some time before going 
in, as I wished to get the material to write a few 
letters in the mess-room, which was not occu- 
pied. Giving way at last to a little reasoning, 
I opened the door and stepped to my locker. 

“Well, if here isn’t old Slippery!” 

“Come on Slip, and have a drink.” 

“Where in Hell have you been all after- 
noon Slip?” etc. 

Dick, the Deck Engineer, seized me by the 
arm and began to spar, butting me none too 
gently on shoulder and chest, expecting me to 
return it. We had been accustomed to spar- 
ring quite often, so I was not in the least sur- 
prised. I did not happen to feel in the mood 


One Hundred Twenty-five 


SEA GRIST 


for sparring that night, and besides he was 
pretty well lit up, and there was no telling 
what he might do. He was my senior by four 
years, and weighed about a hundred and ninety 
pounds, being about twenty pounds heavier 
than I. This did not worry me, in fact I had 
nothing in mind but the letters I was about to 
write. Suddenly something struck me on the 
shoulder, spinning me across the fok’sl into 
the table, and the group of men. Hell itself 
seemed to be turned loose! Writing materials, 
cards, wine and bottles took a slight elevation, 
then spilled and spattered their contents on 
the deck. I was the first up, and started for 
the alley-way, someone tripping me up before 
I had half reached it. On the way up I received 
a stunning blow on the side of the face, and 
at the same time the big electric globe fastened 
to the ceiling showered glass over the entire 
fok’sl. Only one small light remained, that 
burning dimly. There were curses to be sure, 
but the puzzling thing about it was the hoarse 
laughter which accompanied it. To some, the 
incident seemed extremely funny! During the 
scuffle the rest seemed to have the instinct to 
fight, not caring whom they hit! 


One Hundred Twenty-six 


SEA GRIST 


With clothes slightly torn, and my face a 
little scarred, I came out of the encounter none 
the worse for wear, knowing that the whole 
affair would be forgotten by the next day. I 
did not write any letters that night, or even the 
next, but sat on the spare anchor waiting for 
the affair to split up. An hour or so later they 
began to file out, staggering, and talking loudly 
of their personal affairs. I dropped upon my 
bunk, and was surprised to find it was hard, 
and something rattled beneath the sheets. 
Pulling them back I discovered a dozen or two 
empty beer, wine and whisky bottles, a number 
of which I had broken. So this was another of 
their little jokes! 

The next morning the men were sober 
enough to work, so the Chief put a gang of 
five on the dreaded boiler work. The rest of the 
Black Gang, including the engineers, were set 
working on the different pumps. I was among 
the five, which might as well have been three, 
as two of the oilers loafed on the job. The 
first thing to be done was to remove six iron 
doors, two in a tier, from the back of the boiler. 
The fires had been turned out less than twenty- 
four hours, and it was beastly hot up there. 
We had to enter from the second grating in 


One Hundred Twenty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


the engine-room, which made matters much 
worse. Each door weighed two hundred 
pounds, and was secured to the slanting boiler 
by means of nine butterfly nuts with clamps. 
Two of us stood on the boiler top holding the 
door with a rope, while the third knocked the 
nuts loose, and we hauled it on top, in order 
that it should not be in the way. We stood it 
long enough to get the first door up, then re- 
treated to a ventilator with our shoes still 
smoking. When the ship is under full steam, 
one can fry an egg on any part of that boiler. 

It took us all morning to pull the six doors 
up, and the Chief was raving mad. Said he 
“could ha’ done it himself in that time.” We 
next proceeded to knock in the cups, which 
rattled and clattered as they fell to the bottom. 
They were pulled though the hand hole, and 
tossed to the fire-room floor to be scrubbed in 
pearl oil. It was dirty hot work, I tell you. I 
got cuts and bruises all over my hands, and 
the salt of the boiler-seam got into them, and 
made them raw. The three of us took turns 
with the small turbine, which was run by high 
water pressure. Putting it through the cup 
hole was easy, but finding the tube behind 
was more difficult, as the turbine fitted snugly. 


One Hundred Twenty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


I had to edge my hand through the cup hole, in 
order to find the proper tube, which was dan- 
gerous should the pressure be turned on sud- 
denly by the man above. Had the person run- 
ning the valve mistaken the signal I should 
have lost some fingers, or perhaps my hand. 
Sometimes the turbine would strike a crust 
in the tube, and a series of pushes and pulls 
would be necessary to force it through the 
obstacle. Some of the tubes were quite dirty, 
and took fully half an hour. 

This work continued for three days, and I 
stayed aboard each of those three nights, be- 
ing too tired to go ashore. Each night, too, our 
fok’sl staged the usual performance, making it 
impossible for me to stay around, so I spent 
my time meditating on the anchor engine, until 
the Gang departed. I did not fear them, but 
I knew that they would not enjoy my company 
if I did not drink and become one of them. 
My quiet meditation on the forward deck was 
profitable, however, as it gave me time to figure 
out my problems. Wrapped in a heavy ulster 
I was usually none too comfortable, as a wet 
blanket of fog fell soon after nightfall. 

During this time. Bill had been sent to the 
doctor every morning, spending the rest of the 


One Hundred Twenty-nii 


day in roaming the country, and taking pic- 
tures. At night, he sat in his bunk, his arm 
in a sling, and witnessed the drunken revelry. 
The men, no matter how drunk, left him alone. 
Something in their confused brain said “hands 
off.” Afterwards he would tell me of the 
rank dissipation indulged in, and the conse- 
quences. 

The fourth day of boiler work was spent 
in pulling the iron cups up to their hole, knock- 
ing them in securely and sealing them with 
the cup roller. The latter was a long tool, 
which fitted inside of the cup. Once inside, 
it was tightened, and the little rollers inside 
were revolved by placing a pipe in the end of 
the tool and turning it, thus tightening the 
ratchet. It took a number of turns before the 
cup was pulled snug into the hole, making it 
steam tight. In this way we went about treat- 
ing the four hundred little cups, each one a 
task in itself. 

On the fourth night I felt an extra amount 
of energy, and suggested to Mike that we go 
ashore and paint the town, figuratively speak- 
ing. He agreed, and we got an early start, 
leaving before mess. We thought that we 
would see more scenery by walking, so set out 


One Hundred Thirty 


SEA GRIST 


at a good pace. We reached the stone tene- 
ment district, and slackened our pace, when 
we noticed a fine looking woman approaching, 
with an elderly lady wrapped in a black shawl. 
The younger woman smiled as we passed, and 
Mike, being a man of prompt action, stopped 
to talk to her, leaving me the older woman. 
To my surprise, after a few leading questions, 
she talked on various topics, including politics. 
I had delved in history a good deal myself, 
and was dumfounded at her knowledge. Both 
were evidently of the peasant class, but were 
versed on the most popular world topics, and 
keenly alert to oppose a new idea or opinion. 
I had not been in touch with world affairs for 
some time ,and felt blushingly ignorant. After 
the conversation had died down somewhat 
from lack of ideas, the younger spoke: 

‘Tou boys come up to the room?” I 
promptly declined, professing an immediate 
engagement, but Mike accepted. After urging 
Mike to help me keep my appointment, I left, 
and started off toward the city, with one thing 
in mind — any woman, whether married, crip- 
pled, young or old, would stop and talk to an 
American. Was it true, or had I merely no- 
ticed a few cases of it, taking the rest for 


One Hundred Thirty-< 


SEA GRIST 


granted? At any rate I would make a test case 
of the matter. 

I had not walked far when I overtook a 
young woman, apparently of the better class, 
as she was well dressed, and had a jaunty air. 
About to pass her, I hesitated, though still de- 
termined to find out if my theory was correct. 
The thought occurred to me, “what if she 
should scream and call the police?’’ and a doz- 
en other things she might do. But my fears 
were groundless, as she turned and smiled a 
hollow eyed, dissipated smile that chilled me 
to the bone. Yes, my theory was correct, there 
was no doubt about it. I hesitated no longer, 
but lengthened my stride around the nearest 
corner. The Scotch country was getting on 
my nerves ! 

I came to the sudden realization that it was 
dark, and every pace carried me farther from 
the ship. My experience of a few nights pre- 
vious halted my steps, and I made an imme- 
diate “right about face.” I had made many 
turns during my meditative walk, and it irri- 
tated me not a little when I could not retrace 
them. The fog was descending slowly, and I 
was in the toughest part of the city. Fre- 
quently when passing a dingy but crowded 


One Hundred Thirty-t 


SEA GRIST 


corner saloon, I was jostled by a drunkard, 
and cursed as a “bloody Yank.” Somewhat 
perplexed about my directions I leaned against 
a fast dimming arc light and reflected. My 
thought was broken by a voice in my ear. 

“Tack my advice, Yank, and beat it while 
the beaten’s good, yer tacken yer life in yer 
hands around ’ere.” 

I turned, but my would-be benefactor was 
disappearing among the others in the fog. 
Who was it that controlled the destinies of 
men? Was it God, or was it man himself? 
Why was I, where I stood? And why had I 
lost my sense of direction? It all seemed like 
a dream that I, son of my father and mother, 
was fifteen thousand miles from home, and 
hopelessly lost in the fog. Where was that 
guiding hand that had led me all my life? It 
seemed that my instinct, reason and mind had 
passed away, leaving my body as a prey for 
cruel, vulturous men ! Then came to me that 
presence of mind, which is rare indeed. I be- 
gan to grow in strength, and it seemed as 
though some hidden force was flowing into 
my veins. I was again a pulsating thing, cap- 
able of physical and mental achievement. 
Straightening up, and squaring my shoulders. 


One Hundred Thirty-three 


SEA GRIST 


I Strode through the thickening fog, a man not 
to be tampered with. This was another prob- 
lem for reflection! From whence had my en- 
ergy come? But this was no time for medita- 
tion, as my present folly was only too appar- 
ent. Again it was blind instinct or else a spirit 
guide, for at that moment that same high board 
fence rose before me. 

The rolling of the cups and the other 
routine work of the boilers continued for many 
days. I had worked every day, including the 
previous Sunday, so this particular Sunday 
Bill and I intended to make a red letter day. 
The Chief had made elaborate plans for Jim 
and me to clean the hot-well, but I maneuvered 
carefully, and in the end evaded him by escap- 
ing over the side. It was the first time that 
Bill and I had been ashore together, since we 
had been in port. How good it did seem, as 
I had always been forced to go ashore with 
some other member of the Gang, or not go at 
all. Seldom did anyone venture out by him- 
self. 

The day was a beautiful one, and we de- 
cided that it would be our last opportunity to 
visit the famous Art Galleries and University 
of Glasgow. Boarding a car, and with an 


One Hundred Thirty-four 


early start, we reached the scene before noon. 
The Art Galleries, an immense brown stone 
structure, with many spires and towers, stood 
majestically in the center of West End Park. 
Green grass, tender leaved trees and gaudy 
flowers were everywhere, particularly along the 
banks of a mirror-like river, which flowed 
lazily at the rear of the Galleries. Facing the 
river, off on the high distant slope of green, 
stood the University, with its conspicuous clock 
tower. It was a pretentious dirty stone build- 
ing, which the most ignorant tourist would 
take to be an edifice of learning. 

Upon entering the Galleries we were im- 
mediately relieved of our cameras, which in it- 
self seemed a nonsensical thing to do, as we 
had planned to take some pictures from one 
of the towers. We found among the spacious 
halls and corridors a wonderful collection of 
original art, as well as a large number of copies. 
Of the paintings I enjoyed most was Whistler’s 
‘Thomas Carlyle” and Millais’ “The Fore- 
runner,” also Brangwyn’s “A Burial at Sea.” 
I will admit that I was unable to appreciate 
the work to its fullest extent, although we 
could sit an hour at a time before a master- 
piece, studying the artist’s point of view. The 


One Hundred Thirty-five 


SEA GRIST 


ordinary person will not, or rather does not, 
take the time to enjoy a painting. He will look 
at it for an instant, getting the general picture, 
but none of the details which go to make up 
a picture. Bill, somewhat of an artist in his 
way, explained these things to me, which made 
me understand, in a measure, the feelings of 
those who turn out unappreciated work. 

The writer, somewhat as the painter, 
sketches and outlines things on a canvas, 
though not a material one. His is an indellible 
impression upon the canvas of the human 
mind, subject to severe criticism and public 
opinion. From this point of view perhaps, I 
could appreciate the feelings of the artist, who 
spent weeks and months upon his master-piece, 
only to have people give it a casual glance upon 
passing. 

Late in the afternoon we left the place, 
after having seen briefly all there was to see. 
We had hoped to take the train for Ballock, 
and from there take the boat up Loch Lomond, 
but it was impossible, as that was a day’s trip 
in itself. Having had no dinner we were fu- 
riously hungry, and picking a stylish looking 
cafe on Argyle street, we went in. It was 
pleasantly lighted, and at the far end, which 


One Hundred Thirty-sij 


SEA GRIST 


was slightly elevated, sat many well-dresed 
people at snow white tables. I was in front 
of Bill, and proceeded to pick out a table, when 
the waiter raised an immediate protest. Parties 
of ladies and men turned to see us file down- 
stairs to the grill. To this day I cannot imag- 
ine what was the matter. The affair reminded 
me of De Maupassant’s well sketched cafe 
scene in the “Coward.” 

Studying the menu was like a hasty ex- 
amination of a New York Central time table 
five minutes before train time. A fine looking 
Scotch lassie stood by our table, nervously tap- 
ping her teeth with a pencil, while waiting for 
us to study the thing out. We would decide 
on a dish, but being unable to pronounce it 
“would take some of this,” or “some of that.” 
Not desiring to partake of the ordinary com- 
monplace food, we picked most of the long 
sounding names, running the bill up to nine 
shillings. I was somewhat startled when I saw 
the bill, as I had but two shillings. Thinking 
that Bill had been more thoughtful, and pro- 
vided himself with money before leaving the 
ship, I said nothing about it. As time wore on, 
the food, as well as the hunger disappeared, 
leaving a group of crumbless dishes. We 


One Hundred Thirty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


pushed back our chairs, and I left my two 
shillings somewhat carelessly under the nap- 
kin as a tip. Bill noticed it, and picked up the 
bill, which was made out for two. Half way 
up the stairs I told Bill that I would make it 
right with him when we got back to the ship. 
“What!’’ he said, diving hastily into his pock- 
ets. “I’ve only got six shillings myself. 
Haven’t you got any money?” 

I did not wait, but immediately retraced 
my steps back to the grill. The girl was clear- 
ing away the dishes. “Pardon me,” I said, try- 
ing to pick up the napkin with the two coins 
beneath, without her noticing. By my actions 
I hoped she would conclude that I had forgot- 
ten to brush my mouth, but one of the coins 
gave the whole matter away by slipping noise- 
ily to the floor. In my confusion to pick it up, 
the other dropped and rolled beneath a nearby 
table. There was a score of full tables in the 
grill, and I felt as though every eye was boring 
into my back as I searched on hands and 
knees for the lost coin. I entertained visions 
of Stevenson’s poor old father being cast into 
prison for not paying his debts. Not finding 
the coin immediately I rose, bumping my head 
under the table as I did so. I could stand it 


One Hundred Thirty-eight 





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no longer. I would rather be cast into prison 
than suffer the agonies of further search. 

I found Bill where I had left him, but did 
not tell him of my difficulty. “I think IVe found 
another shilling,” I told him, pulling it from a 
small inside pocket, as though I had just dis- 
covered it. 

“That won’t do any good,” he said, in dis- 
gust, “That’ll only make seven. By the way 
you ordered I thought you had plenty of jack.” 

So saying he stepped up to the register, 
laying down the bill with the money on it. 
The man picked it up and said “nine.” Bill 
just looked at him, then turned and looked 
at me. 

“That’s all the money we’ve got,” Bill told 
him. “All you’ve got!” he said, looking at us 
alternately. 

“Just what de ye mean by eaten at my 
plice, without ferst lookin at yer bill book?” 

He did not get really angry, but stood firm, 
and I could not blame him. Suddenly I real- 
ized that I had a half-crown in my watch pock- 
et for a souvenir. I laid it on top of the bill. 

“Ah!” he said, his eyes widening, “So, 
yer trying to beat an old man like me out of 
twa shillin. Shame on yer!” 


One Hundred Thirty-nine 


SEA GRIST 


It was a good thing I had thought of sou- 
venirs, as we might have had to walk back to 
the ship, as well as miss the movie. It was 
then past dark, and we decided inasmuch as 
we would have to return after dark anyway, 
we could risk it a few hours later. Selecting 
what seemed to be the finest theater in the city, 
we bought tickets in the “area.” Bill wanted 
to know if we were going to a bull fight. After 
passing through many aisles and heavy hang- 
ings, we were shown our seats by a young 
lassie and charged one “d” for a program. 
“It was worth it,” Bill said, “to lay the money 
in her palm and tell her to keep the change,” 
her coy smile being the reward. 

To my surprfse most of the gentlemen 
smoked, and did not remove their hats. There 
was talking during the entire performance, 
which annoyed us not a little. The pictures, 
entirely American, brought forward scenes of 
home, as they had been taken largely in Holly- 
wood. The audience, with their dry sense of 
humor, seldom saw the point of a joke until 
said joke was entered in history. However, 
when the “Mutt and Jeff” picture was flashed 
on the screen one could scarcely see the begin- 
ning, on account of flying caps and hats. 


One Hundred Forty 


SEA GRIST 


The pedestrians on the street made much 
silent sport of us that evening. It being rather 
chilly every night, Bill wore his heavy macki- 
naw, which is similar to a top coat. The 
women of Scotland wear a garment which re- 
sembles it closely, and I suppose the public 
had their own opinion on the matter. We did 
not mind in the least, in fact we rather enjoyed 
being the object of so much attention. In an 
American city, we were not in the least bit 
popular! 

Walking toward the Jamaica Street Bridge, 
we met a mob of men surrounding an old-time 
Highlander, with the kilt and bagpipes. He 
was playing ancient songs, and at the finish 
of each, special requests were made by the 
audience. A gasoline torch lighted the scene, 
and we could see the little men smiling and 
keeping time with their hands. Some, I sup- 
pose, had not heard their old clan melody for 
years, which caused a few eyes to become 
moist. Indeed the better class of Scotch were 
charming people, so thrifty and honest and 
sincere. I could not help but admire the ster- 
ling qualities of the whole race. The lower 
class are identical with the lower class of any 
nation. Every country has its undesirables. 


One Hundred Forty-c 


SEA GRIST 


Scotland and England being more so by the use 
of abundant cheap liquor. 

Eventually Bill and I reached the ship that 
night. Bill, his arm still in a sling, was afraid 
of being attacked, so armed himself with a 
short club. Our fears had not been entirely 
without grounds, as the following morning, 
Mike staggered into the mess-room, his clothes 
badly torn, and a gash on his head. He said 
he had been drunk, and just woke up some- 
where at the end of the dock. That was all 
he could remember. 

We had been in Glasgow now eleven days, 
and the Skipper announced officially that we 
would leave the following morning, with the 
tide. The cargo was out, the boiler work had 
been completed, and I had just started to paint 
the engine-room. The latter work was such 
a cinch compared to our former work, that we 
grew almost hysterical about it. We were 
using white paint, and our efforts could be 
plainly seen and appreciated. The First told 
us that when we finished the white, enameled 
the pumps red, the pipe flanges black, and the 
turbine cream color, we could take it easy for 
the remainder of the trip. This gave us some 
incentive, and we not only worked fast, but 


One Hundred Forty-two 


SEA GRIST 


took a great deal of interest in our work. The 
engine-room had cooled down, and it was a 
pleasure to say the least of it. It was not a 
matter of heavy lifting and sweating, but a 
light dip with the brush, and an easy slap, 
slap on the dirty ste^l. It took very little ex- 
ertion, consequently I was ready to go ashore 
that night with the Gang for the last time. 

Bill stood his first light watch that night, 
so could not come with us. There were only 
three of us, Jim, one of the oilers, and myself, 
the rest of the gang going in pairs and threes. 
Taking the remainder of our English money, 
knowing it would not be of much use else- 
where, we made for the big Municipal Square. 
Jim and Dan were sore at the world in general. 
Here it was the last night ashore, and not a 
saloon in the town was open. We dropped 
onto one of the big park benches, and began 
to discuss the situation. Labor was so organ- 
ized that each day in the week some group of 
tradesmen closed their shops. It so happened 
that the saloons would be closed all evening. 
Our conversation must have been overheard, 
as a ragged looking, but honest faced native 
approached. “Fll tak ye to a saloon!” he 
said, doffing his cap. Dan and Jim consented. 


One Hundred Forty-three 


SEA GRIST 


and giving him a piece of silver we followed 
him, for what seemed miles down in the east 
part of the city. 

At length we reached a shabby looking 
place with a long line waiting at the door. Old 
women, young women and men, mostly of the 
lower class, came with jugs, and others with 
large demijohns, and stood dejectedly waiting 
their turn in line. We did not have long to wait, 
as the doors were opened shortly after our ar- 
rival by a tall, hard faced man. He stood in 
a sort of ante-room, and sized up each cus- 
tomer as he filed in. Had it not been for our 
would-be friend Scotty, we would have stayed 
on the outside. Scotty just gave him a wink 
and jerked his head toward us, and the man 
gave a nod of understanding. My blood was 
tingling for adventure, and although I did not 
drink I filed in behind Jim and Dan. It was 
a small place and the din was almost deafen- 
ing. There were loud greetings, and shaking 
of hands, as friends met and set each other up 
at the bar, followed later by the usual clink of 
glasses. Those who were broke made friends 
easily, and were set up for the sake of com- 
panionship only. The trough-like counter was 


One Hundred Forty -four 


SEA GRIST 


covered with foaming beer suds, and empty 
glasses. 

“Come on Slip, and have a drink with 
me,” said Dan, who buttonholed me up to the 
bar. He had had considerable, and it was just 
beginning to work on him. He had forgotten 
that I did not drink, and there was no use in 
arguing. I knew the penalty for refusing to 
drink with a shipmate. 

“All right,” I said good naturedly, and slid 
my foot along the crowded rail. 

“What d’ye have?” he asked, snapping his 
fingers, and holding up two. I hardly knew 
one drink from another, so I said, “straight 
beer will do,” and he gave the order. While 
he was tipping his to his lips, I gave mine to an 
old fellow who had been crowding behind me. 
Hastily picking up an empty schooner at my 
elbow, I made as thought to drain it, and set it 
down in front of Dan. “Very good,” I told him, 
smacking my lips, whereupon the old man 
handed me his glass with a“thank ye, lad.” 

Fortunately Dan was too drunk to notice 
it, so I told him I had had plenty. Others be- 
hind me had noticed it however, and set up a 
great hubbub. As I crowded back, the line 
came forward one, and I received slaps on the 


One Hundred Forty-five 


SEA GRIST 


back at every turn. “Hello Yank, can't ye set 
a poor countryman up just once?” or, “Say 
Yank, won't ye help a poor old man out with 
a couple shillin?” My act of charity seemed 
suddenly known all over the place, by every 
shark and dead beat, the others taking little 
notice. It seemed unhealthy to be treated in 
this manner, so I elbowed my way to the door. 

Some would seize my hand and shake it, 
trying to tell me that they were in my country, 
at so and so. They even stood in front of me, 
so that I could not pass, and I felt slick hands 
travel over my trouser's pockets. How they 
could spot me as a Yank I did not know. I 
knew if I stayed something was liable to hap- 
pen, so pushing the crowd to right and left, I 
reached the door. No one followed me, so I 
stood leaning against the building waiting 
for my shipmates. It was an hour before dark, 
so you see I could afford to wait a little while. 

There was still a line waiting to get in, and 
it moved only as some one came out. A little 
white whiskered man kept attacking members 
in line for enough silver to get his jug full, 
which was finally given him, in order to get him 
out of the way. He was so drunk already that 
he did not know enough to go to the end of the 


One Hundred Forty-sh 


SEA GRIST 


line, and consequently was thrown skilfully to 
the pavement by the tall man in the ante-room. 
Such brutal treatment as this was outrageous, 
and I was about to protest, when two white 
arms were cast about my neck. An unkempt 
young woman she was, with a red face. “You 
come with me,” she said, “you’ll get int’ trou- 
ble ’ere sir.” 

I shook her off loathingly, and started at a 
slow gait toward the city. A young man with 
a hard boiled air swaggered up, and clutching 
my arm roughly turned me back. “What the 
Hell d’ye mean Yank by insulting me sister?” 
I bluffed him a little, and made as though to 
swing at him. I hated to think of the conse- 
quences, however, as it would give those in line 
a chance to have a little exercise at my expense. 
His eyes narrowed craftily. “If ye’ll ge me a 
florin piece, we’ll forget about it.” I shook him 
off, and resumed my walk not looking back. 
He followed for a few steps, then turned, see- 
ing his little game was a failure. There was 
not much chance now to go back and wait for 
Jim and Dan, so I recommenced my journey 
toward the city, and later toward the ship. 


One Hundred Forty-seven 



CHAPTER VII 
Antwerp Docks 

IS well that I did not wait for Jim and 
Dan as they did not return that night, and 
some thought that they would not be back 
before sailing time the next morning. The 
whole crew had been on a rousing drunk, even 
to the Skipper, and seemed very groggy that 
morning. The decks were fast being cleared, 
and the covers were secured over the empty 
hatches. The booms were tied fast. 

By sailing time at nine o’clock Jim had 
returned, downcast, with his pockets picked, 
but there was no sign of Dan. The Mate paced 
the bridge, waiting for final orders from the 
Skipper. The latter was furious at being held 
up in this outrageous manner, and walked the 
boat deck with his hands behind him, cursing 
the Chief and all his dirty Black Gang. At last 
Dan hove in sight, around the warehouse, and 
climbed aboard. He said he had gone to see a 
friend in a hotel, and they locked all the hotel 
doors at midnight, not letting him out until 
morning. 


One Hundred Forty-nii 


SEA GRIST 


It was with a good deal of relief that we 
left the smoky, dirty city. Two noisy tugs puf- 
fing spasmodically, pulled us from our berth, 
as our lines were cast off. There were no shouts 
of farewell, or waving of handkerchiefs, as we 
left. The longshoremen continued their truck- 
ing on the ships, without so much as a look at 
us. What a great cumbersome thing our ship 
was, anyway! It was fully an hour before we 
entered the wider part of the stream, and left 
one of the noisy tugs behind, having covered 
only half a mile. 

Factory whistles sounded dim and muf- 
fled, and seemed to make their cry known in 
every district. Men with lunches, riding on 
funny looking bicycles hurried along the rough 
brick pavement to work. Women with large 
baskets, and small bonnets, traveled in ones 
and twos toward market. The buildings and 
streets hugged the banks of our path so closely 
that it seemed as though some monster had at 
some remote period pressed the river bed 
through the heart of the city. What a history 
that old river could tell! To think that James 
Watt made his first experiment with steam on 
these very waters; and Henry Bell launched 
here the first steam vessel in Europe. Slowly 


One Hundred Fifty 


SEA GRIST 


his company had formed until now, one huge 
concern near Clydebank which has a water 
frontage of a mile, employs fifteen thousand 
men, and often has forty large ships on the 
stocks at one time. From these very yards 
came the giant Cunarders, Lusitania and 
Aquitania. At this time, however, two years 
after the war, hundreds of ships stand rusting, 
somewhere in the process of completion. Dur- 
ing the war these yards were more than filling 
their quota with ships. When the war stopped 
abruptly, the ship building stopped, leaving 
acres of these great skeletons. 

The industrial growth of Glasgow is due 
almost wholly to the fact that the city is built 
over a large coal field, which is rich in seams 
of iron stone. It was here that the first suc- 
cessful experiments were made with the hot 
blast furnace, and the economy thereby ef- 
fected, developed the iron industry at a tre- 
mendous rate. It all resulted into pipe-found- 
ing works, boiler making, locomotive engine 
building and general engineering, all of which 
makes the eastern horizon glow nightly by 
their hot glare. 

That night found us in the Irish Sea, a 
mass of heaving water. Formerly we had been 


One Hundred Fifty-( 


SEA GRIST 


loaded to our summer draught, but now being 
empty we took the seas like a cork. At times 
a great swell would overtake us, and while 
passing amidships it would leave our stern 
dry, making the turbine roar, and the screw 
lash the water. It was a great strain on the 
rivets, as well as hard on the turbine, and at 
such times the whole stern would shake vio- 
lently. The first night it was almost impossible 
even to sleep. However, forward and amid- 
ships one only noticed a sickening roll, and a 
hollow roar, and there I speedily moved my 
bunk. 

We had been having a great deal of sport 
with the First of late, as he had fallen in love 
with a Scotch lassie, while in Glasgow. He 
would sit on the engineer’s platform at times, 
while on watch, and just stare off into space, 
taking no notice of anyone. He had been 
quite intimate with Hal, and from him we 
learned the story. The First had met the girl, 
who was a friend of his family, on a Monday, 
proposed to her on a Friday, and we sailed be- 
fore he had the opportunity to marry her. He 
actually seemed all cut up about it, which was 
most unusual for him. Some of the men had 
read my first poem, and urged me to write an- 


One Hundred Fifty-two 


SEA GRIST 


Other, telling of the First’s sad love affair. I 
did. One night in the fok’sl I was dragged to 
the table, the materials were placed before me 
and feeling in the right mood, I wrote: 

Scotch Love 

On the Firth of the Clyde he first met her, 

A Scotch lassie so pretty and fair; 

Ah ! How he does love her. 

But he doubts if she likes his hair. 
However, his doubts are groundless. 

For her love is faithful and true; 

It took him five days to woo her. 

Then off on the ocean blue. 

In love there is no separation. 

But memories he will hang around; 

The women haters, they all tumble. 

But this one sure hit the ground. 

Even letters dropped by airplane. 

All told of absent caress; 

But how could he think to leave her? 

He alone will have to confess. 

On the morning of the second day out, we 
arrived at a little fishing town not far from 
Land’s End called Brixham. We were forced 


One Hundred Fifty-thi 


to put in for oil, and did not stay more than 
three hours. The town itself was situated on 
the top of a bluff, overlooking a sea of small 
sail boats. It was similar to most old English 
villages, very quaint, yet forbidding in its ap- 
pearance. We had no more than pulled along 
side a great stone breakwater, when a large 
high pressure hose was thrust aboard, and fas- 
tened to our main oil line. A pumping station 
on the breakwater furnished the pressure, 
which was immediately applied. The Chief 
was in a great hurry, and seemed everywhere 
at once. He stationed me on deck to watch the 
overflow pipes, which were situated forward, 
aft, and amidships. All I had to do was to bend 
my ear and listen to the roar of the oil in the 
filling tanks, gauging how near they were from 
being full. 

The Third came on deck with a pair of bi- 
noculars, and lent them to me for a short time. 
I strode about my post, with them slung over 
my shoulder, occasionally listening, and occa- 
sionally gazing at the town upon the bluff. 
The Chief had been watching me at every op- 
portunity, but I had tried to evade him by 
passing through the opposite alley-way. Final- 
ly I ran into him, right under the bridge.. He 


One Hundred Fifty-four 


SEA GRIST 


was furious with me, and threatened to pay me 
off then and there. 

'‘What the Hell do ye think ye are? A 
passenger aboard this ship, just a runnin’ 
round, lookin’ through those glasses? There 
goes your aft overflow now.” As he spoke 
thick black oil poured upon the deck, from the 
starboard overflow pipe. It was the Deck En- 
gineer’s job to watch the tanks between num- 
ber four and five hatch, but he was nowhere 
in sight. By the time I reached the last hatch, 
the sounding rods were covered with oil, and so 
was the freshly painted red deck. Although I 
was not to blame, I was certain the Mate would 
blame me for it, so hurried below with the 
Chief still cursing me. By the time I returned 
on deck with a bag of sawdust, the oil had been 
shut off, and the telegraph was set at half 
astern. We were slowly pulling out into the 
bay. 

It was rumored by Shaft Alley Wireless 
that we would reach Antwerp, Belgium, in two 
days, and take on a cargo of silver sand. The 
S. A. W. was the concensus of general opinion, 
but never authentic. All on board had their 
hopes high, and even the First seemed to 
change his “weary o’ the world” attitude. The 


One Hundred Fifty-five 


SEA GRIST 


men had great sport in talking the Scottish 
brogue to one another, and telling of their wild 
experiences. If any one was ordered to do a 
thing it was, “Ai” or if one was feeling unusu- 
ally fine it was “Hoots man.’’ In telling a 
story there was always a “wee sma’ hoose.” 
Many of the men had been so thoughtful as to 
sneak liquor aboard. It was strictly against the 
rules and regulations of the Shipping Board, 
so all were careful where and when it was used. 
We were generally able to tell, however, and 
some of the unfortunates were hounded until 
they came across with a few bottles — gratis ! 

We were very much surprised to find the 
English Channel practically as calm as a mill 
pond. Having heard that foul weather always 
existed here, we were quite disappointed. On 
the morning of the fourth day out from Glas- 
gow, we had the first glimpse of the Continent. 
Passing into the Straits of Dover, we hugged 
the low shore line of Belgium, until reaching 
the wide mouth of the Scheldt. One does not 
realize at first that one is passing up a river, 
until its bank narrows gradually, and one feels 
the soft land breeze. The country to the right 
and left, as far as one can see, is naught but low 
lands, sprinkled with occasional houses, and 


One Hundred Fifty-si: 


SEA GRIST 


Dutch windmills. The dykes serve as the only 
protection to these thrifty farmers, whose 
land is sometimes ten or fifteen feet below the 
river level. It brings to mind the story of the 
wee Dutch lad who placed his finger in a small 
hole in the dyke, thus saving the land from 
flood and ruin. 

From the mouth of the Scheldt to Antwerp 
is approximately forty-five miles. As we 
wound up this limpid snake-like river, we were 
able from time to time to catch glimpses of 
small Dutch villages. In such cases flapping 
windmills were abundant, also tall structures, 
not unlike the American silo, or the an- 
cient obelisk, which were scattered near 
low stone or brick buildings. Later in 
the afternoon we sighted the spires of the 
taller buildings of Antwerp. The river seemed 
to veer from its course a great deal, and at 
times it perplexed us as to how we would reach 
the city. Rounding a large bend, it would 
stretch out before us, but turning again it 
would nearly be hid from view. 

At dusk we reached the locks, and as the 
tide was out, we bumped over the bar, the aft 
end not quite clearing. Small tugs chugged 
to our rescue, and it was not long before we 


One Hundred Fifty-seven 


were in the first lock, which was so narrow 
that it barely cleared amidships. After waiting 
some time for the ship ahead of us to clear her 
lines, the locks opened, and we passed into a 
small bay, full to capacity with every kind of 
ship imaginable. It was now dark, and the 
reflection of hundreds of ship’s lights cast 
glowing spots upon the still black water. We 
proceeded slowly down many watery avenues, 
lined with tall six-masted vessels, Japanese 
freighters, Rhine river boats, and what not. 
At length we reached our moorings, and in 
short order we had our lines ashore, and tied 
fast. 

All hands gave themselves willingly to as- 
sist the dropping of the heavy oak gang plank. 
It had no more than hit the ground, when a 
dozen or so of the sailors off watch scampered 
ashore. Everyone was in the very best of 
spirits. The Black Gang suddenly decided 
that they would go ashore also, and after much 
borrowing and lending, we set off through the 
warehouses, over the cobblestones, toward the 
unknown. I had left so hurriedly that I still 
wore my dungarees and slippers. What an 
excited feeling I had that night! To think that 
I was in Belgium, tramping the streets with a 


One Hundred Fifty-eight 


bunch of roughnecks, and above all, wearing 
a pair of bedroom slippers without socks. 

Every seaport town has its bad quarters. 
The presence of docks means not only long- 
shoremen, but a low type of men from every 
corner of the world, the majority staying only 
long enough to leave their vile mark. They 
are a bunch of stubby, hard muscled rascals, 
who will not stop at any deed. Neither do 
they have a conscience, but are swayed by lust 
and passion alone. These men are largely cast 
off sailors, and congregate in the lower part 
of the city, among immigrants from all nations. 
It is no wonder that the “merry-go-round dis- 
trict” situated in the midst of it, catered to all 
kinds of vice. Quite naturally, it was the first 
place that the sailor hit upon going ashore. So 
many English seamen were robbed in this dis- 
trict, that the British Consul invented a very 
ingenious scheme of issuing pay notes, nego- 
tiable in England only. By doing this the sail- 
or’s money was worthless, and he was com- 
pelled to stay sober. 

There were nine of us who went ashore that 
night — with not quite four dollars between us ! 
It was a good thing, however, as the Gang felt 
adventuresome, and there was no telling what 


One Hundred Fifty-nine 


would happen. We found the “merry-go- 
round district” in the height of its rabble. 
There were scores of dimly lighted short 
streets and alley ways, nearly every door a 
dancing saloon, or a beer shop. The streets 
were thronged with sailors wearing the uni- 
form of nearly every country, as well as count- 
less other pedestrians. A woman was rarely 
seen in the streets, unless hurrying in or out 
of one of the beer shops with her small earthen 
jug. The “merry-go-rounds” — two of them, 
were grinding out their dinky jazz, which was 
evidently appreciated, by the patronage they 
received. 

The Gang split up gradually, as it was 
hard to suit the taste of everyone. Some were 
urged into the dancing saloons by dark haired 
damsels, who stood at the door, while others 
went into the beer shops, or rode on the merry- 
go-round. 

At length, after much walking around, 
there was no one left but John, the mess-boy, 
and myself. We had graduated with the same 
class numerals, consequently we had many 
things in common. Both of us were disgusted 
with the way the Gang had acted. Their theory 
of life seemed similar to those in Roman days. 


One Hundred Sixty 


SEA GRIST 


“eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we 
die.” They were extracting their utmost en- 
joyment, with no thought for the morrow. Do- 
ing as they did, living riotously, and wasting 
their substance, they pass on with the throng, 
unnoticed, and finally fade into oblivion, with 
a wasted life behind them. 

Truly we loathed these conditions, but still 
they held us fascinated by their newness. The 
adventure of it alone stimulated our blood, and 
invigorated our actions. Together with the 
cool air, we felt capable of handling a dozen 
men in hand-to-hand combat. It was in this 
frame of mind that we started back to the ship. 
The streets were full of drunken brawlers, and 
at times we had to do a little maneuvering to 
escape from their path. If we passed too near 
a saloon door, young women snatched at our 
sleeves, and urged us to come in and have a 
dance. Once we stopped to talk with one, but 
were disappointed at the dimensions of her 
vocabulary, so passed along with the shifting 
crowd. 

There was seldom a light along the docks, 
consequently this lack of illumination cost us 
an hour of searching, before we found the ship. 
We felt for the poor devils who would return 


One Hundred Sixty-< 


SEA GRIST 


drunk, some perhaps not returning at all. It 
seems to be instinct for the American sailor to 
stir up trouble, when he is drunk. In these in- 
stances his life is hardly worth the snap of the 
fingers, up at the district, unless he is with his 
Gang. Consequently, but few returned that 
night, and those few did not happen to be 
drunk. 

By this time Bill’s hand was so much im- 
proved that the Chief sent him below once 
more and the three of us started the paintwork 
in real earnest. The First had figured out a 
scheme of competition between Jim and my- 
self, making the work progress even faster. 
Jim was to paint the dynamo platform on the 
starboard side, and I was to paint the tool room 
on the port side. We were started off at the 
same time by the First, who had a great deal 
of fun over it. He was to be the judge, the 
winner, of course, would do the more work in 
the faster time, and the reward was to be some 
afternoon off. The engine-room had cooled 
down to such an extent that we could work 
furiously for an hour without even working up 
a sweat. I had had a good deal of experience 
painting, consequently at the end of the day 
had slapped on a few more square inches than 


One Hundref] Sixty-t 


SEA GRIST 


Jim had. The First, being in unusually good 
humor, told us both to knock off at noon the 
next day. 

I did not go ashore that night, but collected 
all of my natural wealth for an excursion the 
next day. Jim was unable to leave as early 
as I wished, so I set off alone toward the 
spired city. I found the “merry-go-round dis- 
trict’' practically deserted, only the debris of 
the night before being left. I passed into the 
tenement district, and there was little more ex- 
citement. Two and three story, rather dilap- 
idated, dirty stone buildings, lined the streets, 
severed in sections by damp, dark looking al- 
leys. Unkempt, poorly clad children, with 
sunken eyes, and hungry look, played their 
games somewhat quietly in the narrow cobble- 
stone streets. There was the feeling among 
them that chills one’s heart; that rather care- 
less mute appeal which is noticed by occasional 
passers by. Their weary mothers could be 
seen clogging their way about in wooden shoes, 
broom or mop in hand, appearing in this win- 
dow, or that door, patiently doing their daily 
housework. 

Ragged, unshaven men, perhaps the fath- 
ers, sometimes lingered on the steps long 


One Hundred Sixty-three 


SEA GRIST 


enough to call their children to the scanty noon 
repast. These people are usually cast-off for- 
eigners, incapable of earning a living in their 
own land, hesitating whether or no, they have 
money enough to move on. These people, not 
unlike everyone else, deserve consideration. 
They are not educated, but they are human, 
and live as well as their ignorant ways permit. 

Having left the tenement district, there 
seemed to be a marked change in the appear- 
ance of the streets, which were widened and 
the cobblestones less worn. The buildings 
were much fairer to look upon, and occasion- 
ally I observed a patch of green, and a few 
flowers. These people were of the staunch 
peasant class, and exactly the opposite from 
their slovenly neighbors. Cleanliness ap- 
peared everywhere. Every small detail seemed 
to have been accomplished by an efficient hand, 
which is characteristic of most Europeans. 
Nothing is done in a slipshod manner, but quite 
the contrary. 

Rounding a sharp corner, at the end of this 
district, I came suddenly upon a narrow ave- 
nue, thronged with pedestrians, bicycles, and 
a few street cars. It was no more than two 
blocks long, and at its very end towered a gi- 


One Hundred Sixty-four 


SEA GRIST 


gantic Cathedral. There was only one tower, 
and as the story goes, a father and son con- 
structed the beautiful edifice in 1400 A. D. 
They had completed the building which in- 
cluded the first tower of spires, and had the 
twin to the first tower half completed, when 
the son fell from the high scaffolding, and was 
killed. The father, heartbroken, did not con- 
tinue with the work, and the Cathedral now 
stands with the missing tower. 

Stretched at the opposite end of the avenue 
is All Nations Park, and beside it a long stone 
water front. At the edge of the park, to the 
north, is an immense old castle, which was 
built in 1200 A. D. and has the original furni- 
ture and tapestries with which it was furnished 
at that time. It is supposed to have been built 
by a giant, who, in the early days, collected a 
tax from all ships passing his castle. Of 
course, the time came when one brave man re- 
fused to pay the tax, and severed the giant’s 
hand from his wrist, with his sword. To honor 
the event the people of the time erected a huge 
iron statue of a man with his hand severed. In 
this way, Antwerp derived its name. It means 
“hand-werpen” or hand throwing. The Prov- 
ince of Brabant was named after Brabo, who 


One Hundred Sixty-five 


SEA GRIST 


overthrew the tax custom, and the custom 
house with it. In some parts of the city the 
name is spelled Antwerpen, which is the Flem- 
ish, but the Belgians refer to it as Anvers. 

Antwerp is metropolitan in aspect. I had 
supposed that this was the main part of the 
city, but after wandering for what seemed 
about a mile, I stumbled on a wide bustling 
thoroughfare. In the older section of the city, 
there had been no automobiles, which reminded 
one of ancient times, but this was certainly a 
model of New York traffic. There were 
crowded street cars, busses, hotel hacks, auto- 
mobiles, and heavily laden beer trucks. The 
sidewalks, like the streets, were exceptionally 
wide. In front of the cafes was extended on 
the sidewalks a number of beer gardens, which 
held anywhere from twenty to a hundred 
tables, and chairs. The sides were enclosed 
with glass, but the front was open to the public 
eye. It seemed very convenient, as most of 
these gardens were very well patronized. In 
spite of this fact, a drunkard was never seen on 
the street. The people did not abuse the priv- 
ilege, consequently no more was thought of it 
than the American thinks of a soda fountain. 


One Hundred Sixty-sij 


Nothing is sold in these places except beer and 
light wine, whisky being eliminated. 

As I passed along the avenue, I noticed 
that the people seemed well dressed, and out- 
wardly prosperous. There were many beau- 
tiful French and Belgian women, too, dressed 
in their furs and jewels, some of them rolling 
their eyes as I passed. I took it for granted 
that they came from the Crystal Palace. I 
soon found myself at Place Verte, which is in 
the heart of the city. The car lines converge 
at this point, forming a sort of triangular park, 
adorned with green grass, beautiful flowers, 
and shrubs. A huge bronze statue of Rubens 
occupied the center, giving the whole block 
rather an austere appearance. 

Le Gare Centrale, or the Central Station, 
is a magnificent building, and boasts of being 
one of the finest depots in the world. It faces 
a large oval garden, and one can see it half a 
mile distant, down the main Avenue. It is the 
beginning and end of all travel, and stands 
serenely at the apex of all the bustle and con- 
fusion. 


One Hundred Sixty-seven 












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CHAPTER VIII 
I Have an Adventure 

afternoon had worn well away, when 
I retraced my steps toward the tall cathe- 
dral tower. I encountered many crooked nar- 
row streets, and alleyways, but always I kept 
my tall guide in view. Without it, I would have 
been like a ship without a compass. It was 
still a number of blocks, and I hastened a little, 
knowing that soon it would be dark. Lights 
were already being turned on, and the streets 
were full of clerks and tradesmen going home 
from their work. 

On little side streets, I came across very 
peculiar looking curio and souvenir shops. I 
stopped at one of these, and purchased a pair 
of wooden shoes, and some souvenir handker- 
chiefs. The keeper of the shop did not speak 
English, so I pointed at the articles wanted. 
I wished to buy some engraved post cards, 
which I had seen at many of the other shops. 
He had none on display, so I attempted to de- 
scribe them with my hands. I made elaborate 


One Hundred Sixty-nii 


SEA GRIST 


motions, that described a post card with en- 
graving, but he could not understand. I left 
the shop, and passed through a few more 
crooked streets until I stood at the base of a 
cathedral tower. I had forgotten that there 
was more than the one cathedral, and I did not 
know where this particular one was located. 
I stopped several pedestrians, but they said 
something in hurried French and passed on, 
turning to take a last look before leaving me. 
I was as ignorant of French as 1 was of He- 
brew, so made up my mind that I would be 
lost for a while, at least. 

I remembered that the breeze blew off the 
river, so hastened my steps in a general direc- 
tion, againsgt the breeze. In my wanderings, 
I passed many steep-roofed residences, stores, 
shops, and monuments, but none of them did I 
recognize. The harvest moon was up, and 
threw a ghostly light upon my unfamiliar sur- 
roundings. I experienced a peculiar, weird 
feeling, which came over me slowly, at the 
strangeness of it all. There were not many 
people on the streets now, and they seemed to 
hurry by, as if afraid of being seen. What 
foreign looking people they were, too, with 
their dark features, and piercing eyes! 


One Hundred Seventy 


At last I came upon La Rue Leys, and 
some of the peculiar feeling left me. There 
was not a person in sight, on the long avenue 
on which 1 was walking. Stone residences, 
slightly back from the street, lined both sides, 
and occasionally a dim light, overpowered by 
a blue moon, cast a faint shadow on the pave- 
ment. I was in the middle of a block, when 
the figure of a woman left one of the stone 
buildings, and approached on my side of the 
walk. As she came nearer, the blue moon 
seemed to shine more brightly, and revealed 
to me a young woman sobbing hysterically. 
She had a handkerchief to her eyes, and her 
head was bowed. As she drew nearer, I saw 
that she had a good figure, and was well 
dressed. 

We were about to pass, when she paused 
very slightly, and something dropped from her 
arm. I prided myself on being a man of the 
world, and “on” to schemes of women, but in- 
stinctively I stopped and picked up a small 
leather handbag. As I did so it fell open, and 
a card dropped at my feet. I handed back the 
bag politely and picked up the card, but she 
hurried on, thanking me in French. Upon 
reaching the next light, I stopped to examine 


One Hundred Seventy-( 


SEA GRIST 


my find. For the life of me I could not see the 
motive underlying such actions. If she had 
had evil intentions, why had she hurried on, 
and why had she been crying? I was very 
doubtful whether I should have kept the card. 
Upon examination, I found it to be a small 
passport picture, with the name “Marie” poor- 
ly written at the bottom. At last I had a revela- 
tion ! She had seen me approach, and it was 
a ruse whereby she would be picked up, but 
not without first seeing me at close range. In- 
deed, I felt flattered at such a compliment ! 

It was an early hour in the morning, when 
1 finally reached the ship, tired and very hun- 
gry. I would not have taken “draughts of gold” 
however, for the experience. I had an espe- 
cially clear idea of the lay out of the city, par- 
ticularly around all of the cathedrals, and 
seriously contemplated writing a guide book, 
while it was still fresh in my memory. Sleep 
overcame me, however, so I gave up the idea, 
temporarily at least. That morning at mess I 
was the object of much quizzing. There was 
a good deal of speculation as to my where- 
abouts the day before; but did 1 tell them? 

That noon when Bill and I came up from 
below, a surprise awaited us. “A couple o’ 


One Hundred Seventy-t 


fellows to see ye in the mess-room/' was told 
us as we approached the fok’sl. Upon enter- 
ing we saw a couple of young fellows, about 
our age, that seemed badly in need of a shave. 
They smiled as we entered, and we shook 
hands. 

‘They tell us you fellows are from Pasa- 
dena," the taller of the two said. “Well, we 
are from Los Angeles, so we thought we'd drop 
in and see you." Bill and I were the only 
fellows on the ship from Southern California, 
the rest of the crew hailing from San Francisco 
and Seattle, so you can believe that we were 
more than glad to see them. We shook hands 
around once more, and they told us they had 
left their ship, which was a Canadian freighter. 
They had shipped out of 'Pedro, like ourselves, 
but going on a “Lime Juicer" had neglected 
to get passports. They were in a fix all right, 
without money, a ship, and passports! It 
would be impossible for them to get out of the 
country without the latter, and we were in no 
shape to help them financially. After giving 
them a good feed, they left in better spirits, 
and told us they would be back, if they did not 
find either work or a ship. We never heard 
from them again, so they must have been res- 


One Hundred Seventy -three 


SEA GRIST 


cued in some way, from their plight. This all 
goes to show what a fix a fellow can be in 
without government permission to leave, or 
enter, a country. About the only way it is pos- 
sible without a passport, is to stow away, and 
now that is made almost impossible by the 
many watchmen. 

We were very fortunate in being in Bel- 
gium during the Olympic struggle for the many 
world championships. It had been in progress 
only a few days when we first arrived. The 
first newspaper I bought, was printed in Ger- 
man, and on the first page was a picture of the 
world's greatest sprinter. We had passed 
through high school at the same time, conse- 
quently I was much interested in the outcome. 
Unfortunately 1 was not able to get a leave of 
sufficient length to enable me to take in any 
part of the event. Bill, however, and John 
the mess-boy, got the day off later, and took 
it in, telling me all about it. 

I had been planning to go to Brussels at 
the first opportunity. Bill could not get off at 
the same time as I could, so we gave up the 
thought of going together. Early one Sunday 
morning, Paul, the sailor’s mess-boy, men- 
tioned that he had the day off, as well as I. We 


One Hundred Seventy-four 


immediately began laying our plans, and bor- 
rowing money. Ready money was a very 
scarce thing at that time. I had loaned out 
nearly half of the money 1 had drawn, so was 
forced to borrow from Jim, to put me through 
the day. 

We walked to the end of the warehouses, 
and hailed a cab. It was the kind of a cab 
that is characteristic of most European travel, 
two seats facing, with the cabman perched up 
in front. We felt like millionaires, leaning 
back in that soft upholsery, watching the mov- 
ing populace. Upon reaching the Central 
Station we paid him ten franc notes, 
which was equivalent to about eighty cents in 
our money. We had a terrible time with the 
money at first, and even when we understood 
the worth of it, we could not use it intelligently. 
There were many centime pieces of different 
numbers, and ten centimes was worth an Amer- 
ican cent. As a franc was then worth eight 
cents, it took eighty centimes to equal one. 
During the war, when Germany had posses- 
sion of Belgium properties, lead money had 
been issued in different denominations, and is 
still in circulation. Also, there was an assort- 
ment of paper money, that reminds one very 


One Hundred Seventy-five 


SEA GRIST 


much of different sized soap wrappers, and to- 
bacco coupons. 

We bought our round trip tickets and 
boarded a second-class passenger coach. The 
engine seemed a toy beside the giant mogul, 
and the cars were as frail as match wood, in 
our estimation. The only difference that we 
could see between first and second-class, was 
that the first cost more, owing to the privilege 
of sitting with the nobility. The grunting en- 
gine started with a jerk, and we were on our 
way. Our train wound over many small stone 
bridges, before reaching the open country. The 
land lay flat for miles, and was very green and 
beautiful, with an occasional swamp, grown 
heavy with lilies, near small patches of woods. 
Every available inch of ground seemed to be 
cultivated, no one farmer having more than a 
few acres. Several miles out from Antwerp 
we passed an old cathedral, with part of its 
tower shot away. In the distance we saw a 
few trenches, and the rusty remains of barbed 
wire entanglements. It was most fascinating 
to watch the foreign scenery slip by. The con- 
tinued green was restful to the eye, the cool 
air promoted drowsiness and I fell to dreaming. 


One Hundred Seventy-si: 


SEA GRIST 


To think that immeasurable drops of blood 
were spilled on this very soil, fertilizing it, and 
making it rich with human refuse. It was here 
that foes had turned their backs upon foes, 
and when the noisy din of battle ceased abrupt- 
ly, great clouds of hate rose high above and 
parted, letting the red sun filter through. And 
now, tender blades of grass grow around and 
through those terrible instruments of battle, 
and golden poppies everywhere thrust their 
shinning petals above the growth of green 
fields. They nod their delicate little heads con- 
tinually as a token of sleep and peace, taking 
their nourishment from those who bled there. 

After riding an hour, we entered the long 
train sheds, which seemed almost identical 
with the Kansas City depot. Our train came 
to a snorting halt, and we found ourselves in 
the midst of a big train yard, behind the Cen- 
tral Depot of Brussels. From this point, one 
is able to ride by rail to any city in Europe. 
The station was thronged with travelers, a good 
many of whom were tourists. We had early 
decided — on account of financial difficulties, 
not to take a cab, but to set off and see the 
points of interest on foot. Crossing the large 
square, in front of the station, we passed to- 


One Hundred Seventy-seven 


ward La Bourse, or the Exchange. It was a 
beautiful building of old Gothic architecture, 
its main arch supported by six pedestal col- 
umns. It faced a huge flatiron, which was the 
termination of several streets, meeting from 
different angles. At each intersection of the 
main avenue, this flatiron effect presisted, and 
in the center of each was a statue, or monu- 
ment. This gave the city a very charming lay 
out, with its clean wide avenues, and its quaint 
belabeled buildings. 

The walking population made a deep im- 
pression on our minds. There were gentlemen 
wearing cutaways, and silk toppers, with be- 
jeweled ladies, sporting expensive silk cos- 
tumes. Costly carriages, drawn by spans of 
black horses, with polished harness, frequently 
rolled by, carrying some of the nobility. The 
fact that it was Sunday accounted for all of the 
finery. But to think that funds were still be- 
ing provided for the needy of Belgium, while 
there was this apparent wealth right in their 
own country. Why not allow the rich in Bel- 
gium to care for their own poor? They will 
not do it, however, as long as they can play 
on the sympathy of their neighbors. Of course 
it is not intentional, but they do not see beyond 


One Hundred Seventy-eight 


SEA GRIST 


their own families, consequently the famine 
continues among the poor. 

We passed along until we reached the end, 
then turning, proceeded through parks, and tall 
forbidding stone residences. At length we 
reached the Palais de Justice, a mammoth and 
impressive building. Gothic in architecture, in 
grey stone, which crowned the slope overlook- 
ing the city. Here we bought a souvenir of the 
famous Manneken-Pis, and learned its story 
from the peddler. Several American tourists 
were present during the story, and I could see 
plainly that they were shocked. I wondered 
at the time why the American has such a deli- 
cate sense of modesty. The things that were 
everyday occurrences on the streets of Brus- 
sels, my countrymen would think absurd and 
impossible, were I to tell them. I realize this, 
because I was shocked myself, until I became 
accustomed to the sights. 

We had no more than left the peddler, 
than we were picked up by a young Belgian, 
who insisted on accompanying us, and volun- 
teering information. He had been interned 
during the war, and talked a good deal about 
the bad treatment he had received at the hands 
of the Germans. He told us that when the 


One Hundred Seventy-nii 


SEA GRIST 


city was finally given up, it was in such a ter- 
rible condition that it took the people six 
months to fumigate, and to clean up the debris. 
The Palaces, he said, were used for officer’s 
headquarters, and everything of any value at 
all was taken when the Germans left. Many 
of the buildings were in such a condi- 
tion that they had to be torn down and rebuilt. 
The Belgian people had been wise in giving 
up their cities without resistance, or else the 
valued collection, for centuries back, would 
have been shelled and destroyed. 

We passed an old cathedral, built in 1200 
A. D., which was still beautiful and intact. The 
work on every archway and tiny steeple was 
wreathed in the most intricate carvings and de- 
signs. It was a fine example of a polished idea, 
carried into effect, with the utmost patience 
and care. We went through the King’s gar- 
dens, and Park, and saw from the Palais du 
Roi that the King was in, which was indicated 
by the flag flying from the center dome. We 
contemplated seriously on making a little call, 
but as Paul had neglected to shine his foot- 
wear, we thought that we would put it off until 
a little later! 


One Hundred Eighty 


In very flowery language, our guide ex- 
plained that he himself would present us to His 
Majesty, and perhaps to the Princess, if we 
would pay him sufficiently. He painted ani- 
mated pictures of one of us falling in love with 
the Princess, at sight. After a little court life 
the King would approve of the marriage, the 
groom receiving half the kingdom and heir to 
the throne. The couple would tour the United 
States, and the groom would not recognize his 
former acquaintances. He would pay his old 
parents a short visit, in royal state, and enter- 
tain his home city by giving fetes and tourna- 
ments. He was extremely clever in his word 
pictures, and almost made us believe that his 
story could be possible. He was continually 
trying to X-ray our pocket-books, without our 
knowing it, this fact leading us to believe that 
he had been taking advantage of us, and our 
palpable good nature. 

We next went through an old lace factory, 
and had explained to us just how the lace was 
made, from start to finish. Everything was 
done by hand, and from our point of view the 
finished product must have cost someone an 
infinite amount of labor. We purchased a few 
small pieces, then dismissed our guide by giv- 


One Hundred Eighty-( 


SEA GRIST 


ing him what money we had left — a five franc 
note. He must have been accustomed to large 
tips, as he accused us of buying the lace, so as 
to swindle him out of his money. 

On our return to the station, we passed 
through a section of the city which evidently 
was inhabited by the poorer middle class. It 
was well toward evening, and the wives of the 
shopkeepers were clogging about in front of 
their quaint looking little shops, watering the 
sidewalks. Afterwards, they would painstak- 
ingly drag a big rough towel over their section 
of the walk, until it was smooth and spotless. 
They seemed to be very frank and honest peo- 
ple, and we could not help admiring their 
thrifty habits. They dressed very simply and 
usually lived at the rear of their shop, in the 
midst of a small garden. 

We ate a hasty lunch and departed toward 
the station, first taking in the famous Biolog- 
ical and Floracultural gardens. Neither of us 
being horticulturists, we did not linger, but 
proceeded toward our destination. The Gare 
Midi, or Central Station, seemed to be sur- 
rounded by a persistent and offensive set of 
guides, both men and women, from whom it 
was very difficult to escape. Some followed 


One Hundred Eighty-t 


SEA GRIST 


US about, and volunteered information at every 
turn, and then wanted to be paid for it. They 
told us which was the entrance to the station, 
and what time the Antwerp train would leave, 
and many other facts, which were plainly indi- 
cated on the signs all about. 

After reaching Antwerp, we encountered 
part of the Black Gang, and were requested to 
join. There were five of us all told, and we 
climbed to an upstairs cafe, and ordered a meal. 
A young Frenchman had a table across from 
us, and kept looking over and smiling, until 
Hal went over and talked to him. After the 
meal was over, he insisted on buying the 
drinks. We offered objections, but he insisted, 
and gave the order. 

It was a late hour, and the cafe was de- 
serted, except for the proprietor and his wife, 
who knew the Frenchman, so were invited to 
join the party. I did not care much for stout 
but I knew it would be considered the height 
of discourtesy to refuse to drink with them. 
I gargled the first glass down without making 
too much of a face, but was dismayed when 
Hal set us up all round once again. It was 
strong stuff, and after taking the second drink, 
I had peculiar sensations creep into my legs. 


One Hundred Eighty-three 


SEA GRIST 


and up into my head. The Frenchman being 
used to his “toddy’’ had barely yet quenched 
his thirst, he told us, and “set ’em round 
again.” This time I refused. I did not care 
to drink even one of the two glasses before me. 
I may add (for decency’s sake), that I found 
my way alone to the ship that memorable 
night. 

Late the following afternoon, the First told 
me to knock off early, so I prepared to go 
ashore, for perhaps the last time. With the 
Steward’s permission, John did not have to 
serve the evening meal, so we left together. 
We had heard a great deal about the French 
movies, and were determined to find out a few 
things for ourselves in that respect. We board- 
ed a street car — the first one we had been on 
in the city, in order to see the beginning of the 
evening performance. The street cars were 
very peculiar affairs, their trucks being placed 
in the middle, making them bounce violently 
over the uneven track. The conductor wore a 
uniform that reminded me of some antique 
Spanish General who had had his shoulder 
straps clipped. I gave him a small bill, and he 
handed me back what looked to be a bunch of 
lead nickels and coated pennies. I thrust them 


One Hundred Eighty-four 


SEA GRIST 


in my pocket, and we started to sit down, when 
he punched me in the back. As I turned he 
looked at me almost intelligently, and gave me 
another handful of rattling money. I might 
have been cheated right and left, and never 
have known the difference. 

The outside of the movie had all the ap- 
pearance of being the side of a barn, as far as 
the architecture was concerned. Its walls rose 
abruptly from the sidewalk, and the only open- 
ings were a small ticket window and a double 
door. 

We bought the best balcony seats and filed 
in through the doors, with a jabbering crowd. 
We were shown upstairs to our box-like seats, 
which were enclosed at one end. It appeared 
to me as though plank benches had been set in 
rows, and separated by board walls, just high 
enough to enable the occupants to look over. 
We were surprised to see that the area below 
was filled with tables and people partaking of 
their evening meal. There was the clinking of 
dishes and the loud noise of soup, until the 
curtain was drawn. We enjoyed somewhat 
the American pictures shown, but would nat- 
urally have preferred to have the explanation 
printed in English. 


One Hundred Eighty-five 


SEA GRIST 


It seems that the nobility and better class, 
do not attend the movies. These places are 
patronized mostly by the commoners who are 
able to afford it. The average European does 
not seem to care much for movies. He is al- 
ways entertaining, or being entertained during 
his spare time, in the beer gardens, or his club. 
They are not as great pleasure lovers as the 
Americans. Most of them would rather enter 
into a beautiful discussion, or even a peaceful 
argument, than attend the movies. I believe 
that they are of a different temperament, and 
their environment has kept them behind the 
times — on the movie question. 

It must have been nine o’clock when John 
and I left the theater. We strolled down the 
main avenue, toward the water front, and no- 
ticed among the crowded streets, an occasional 
girl, or woman, dressed in black. John thought 
that if he could find a really nice young one, 
who was wealthy, he would not go back on the 
ship ! It was rumored at the time, that many 
of them had tired of single life, and had mar- 
ried Americans, either soldiers or sailors, and 
returned to the States with their husbands. 
However, all that we saw were accompanied 
by someone. 


One Hundred Eighty-sij 


SEA GRIST 


We were walking slowly down a dimly- 
lighted little street, near the water front, when 
we were quite suddenly accosted by four Eng- 
lish sailors. They blasphemed, and cursed us 
as Yanks, until John pulled his gun on them. 
I never could quite understand the hatred that 
came from the lower class. The better class 
always seemed very amiable and charming peo- 
ple. Many students of the question say that it 
is jealousy; but jealousy of what? Did we not 
fight side by side during the latter part of the 
war, passing through the same encounters and 
dangers? Frankly, I cannot understand it. 
John and I discussed the matter afterwards, 
but could find no possible solution for the 
question. 

Our minds were quickly diverted, how- 
ever, for a few blocks farther down we saw a 
trim looking French girl sauntering toward us. 
She was slender enough to have an excellent 
figure, which showed off her smart suit most 
admirably. It was short, of course, and she 
wore a small fur trimmed hat, that matched a 
similarly trimmed bag she was swinging on 
her arm. She turned and gave us a beautiful 
smile as we passed, and we returned it, though 
not so beautifully. As she slowed down we 


One Hundred Eighty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


Stopped. I looked at John. “Let’s go back 
and talk to her” he said, starting in that direc- 
tion, in which I readily followed. 

“Parlez-vous Francais?” John asked her. 

“Oui Oui, Monsieur,” and she went on rat- 
tling it off as fast as she could talk. It hap- 
pened that this was the end of John’s vocabu- 
lary, as he understood none of the rest. I in- 
terrupted her, as neither of us understood. 

“Do you speak English as well?” I asked 
in an even tone. 

“Oh, yes Monsieur,” she said somewhat 
brokenly. “You boys out for walk? Me out 
for promenade.” 

“Going anywhere in particular?” John 
asked her. 

“Oh! no, no, me just promenade.” 

“Let’s take her to a cafe,” John said to me 
in a low voice. This was going to be great 
sport, as we knew that both of us ought to be 
able to handle her, if she should act up. We 
had scarcely spoken to any woman so far, on 
the trip, and we felt justified in having a little 
sport with this one. She readily consented, so 
we started for the nearest cafe, she between us, 
hanging on to each of our arms. What was 
our surprise when we met part of the Gang 


One Hundred Eighty-eight 


coming up the avenue. They jeered at us and 
made insulting remarks, and our friend only 
clung to us more tightly, and made faces at 
them. The Gang followed us into the cafe, 
and insisted on being seated at the same table. 
We would have liked to object, but knew 
that it would do no good. There was music, 
so Frenchie and I danced while the drinks were 
served. She was an excellent dancer, and we 
whirled about the Gang in great style. The 
music proceeded from a large music box at the 
corner of the cafe. It was not very good, but 
there was rhythm to it. She took a great fancy 
to the Deck Engineer, and after a few dances 
with him would not even look at me. John and 
I became disgusted, and left the place. We 
never did hear just what became of the girl. 


One Hundred Eighly-nii 





















CHAPTER IX 

We Break Down in Mid-Ocean 

JjfT WAS late in the afternoon, after our short 
two weeks’ stay in Antwerp, that we put 
down the stream toward Brest, France. Shaft 
Alley Wireless, was positive that we would stop 
there for a day or so, to take fuel oil. The men 
took delight in recalling the few French words 
that they had learned, and practicing on their 
ignorant victims. Someone produced a French 
dictionary, and for the time everyone was a 
student of the language. Good spirits persisted 
more than ever now, as all were contemplating 
upon going ashore, and using their newly ac- 
quired lore. We were passing through the last 
part of the English Channel, when the Skip- 
per suddenly announced that our next stop 
would be Porto Rico. Everyone’s jaw dropped, 
and long faces became quite popular. It would 
mean a fifteen days’ journey, at least, before 
we would again sight land. 

The three of us wipers, resumed our paint- 
ing, regardless of the change. As the engine- 


one Hundred Ninety-( 


SEA GRIST 


room gradually heated up our work became 
more and more difficult. We had started at the 
top, and worked down, and had reached as 
far as the steam pipes, with the white. A lad- 
der would not stay put, so it became necessary 
for us to cling for support in any way con- 
venient, with the paint pail tied to our belts. It 
was beastly hot work, as the engineer, or oiler, 
would forget occasionally that we were up 
there, so we had to stay until the ladder was 
held up for us. At four o’clock, when the 
First came on watch, we dropped our paint 
work, and shined the floor-plates, and did the 
brass work until five. 

This work continued without change for 
six days, when something happened that 
turned the ship’s program upside down. I had 
been mixing paint one morning, and happened 
to pass the port door from the engine-room, 
into the fire-room. I was surprised to find that 
the larger part of the port boiler was one red hot 
piece of steel. This was the portion backing the 
wall, between the engine-room and fire-room, 
and would be scarcely noticeable to the engi- 
neer, as he made his rounds. The Third was 
on watch at the time, and I hurried immediately 
to his platform and told him about it. He just 


One Hundred Ninety-two 


SEA GRIST 


said ‘‘What?” in a startled voice, and hastened 
to see for himself. He came running back 
and told me to watch the bearing thermometers, 
while he called the Chief. He had gone 
scarcely two minutes, when the Chief came 
rapidly down the gratings, half sliding and half 
falling, until he reached the defunct boiler. He 
began to rave as soon as he saw it. 

“What the Devil is the matter with you 
damn wipers, and you imbecile engineers. I 
suppose you’d let the boiler drop to the bottom 
before you’d notice it. Can’t you see the brick 
work has fallen down, and yer fires are shoot- 
ing straight into the boiler back. Here you!” 
he bellowed at me, “turn every fire out under 
the port boiler,” and to the Third Officer, “Cut 
’em down a few turns on the throttle.” We 
obeyed like meek lambs before a starving wolf, 
and after that I kept out of his sight as much 
as possible. 

The three of us continued the painting that 
afternoon as though nothing had happened. 
We were now running on two boilers, and mak- 
ing about four or five knots. That evening as 
Bill and I lay in our hammocks, we noticed 
that the steering engine was making more noise 
than usual. There seemed to be a different 


One Hundred Ninety-three 


motion to the ship, and the wind also changed. 
We were directly in the middle of the Atlantic. 
The sun, red and round, dipped its lower self 
into a flaming sea, causing many reflecting 
colors. As the ship swerved around, it ap- 
peared directly astern, cutting a great white 
pathway over the summer ocean. Soon the 
flaming god had slipped beneath the horizon, 
leaving only a delicate pink reflection across 
an azure sky. Very slowly the night gath- 
ered, twilight melted into cool darkness, and 
soon little white stars began to peep down upon 
the tainted world. Later in the evening a bold 
blue moon dropped her silvery rays, which 
played on the still water, casting many deep 
shadows. 

That same evening we received quite an 
authentic message from the Shaft Alley, say- 
ing that we were now headed toward the 
Azores for repairs. The message told the im- 
possibility of crossing the Atlantic on only two 
boilers. The men took this news quite differ- 
ently, and as the saying goes, “more days more 
dollars.” Yet there was a feeling of disgust 
with the ship, and everything on her. With the 
Black Gang the feeling was much worse, as 
all the work fell upon us. When the midnight 


One Hundred Ninety-four 


watch was called we were called as well, as 
every man in our fok’sl was wanted below. 
We looked forward to a long hard night’s 
work, under the direction of the Chief. I had 
retired late and had scarcely dropped to sleep, 
when the fateful news was burst into my sleep- 
ing ear. Hastily dressing, we found the Chief 
running about, giving orders here and there, 
sparing no one. 

There are four fire-holes, or openings into 
the port boiler, from the fire-room. Inverted 
cones are placed in these openings, which are 
about large enough to admit a man, and eigh- 
teen inches above the floor-plates. Through the 
center of this inverted cone, is a short pipe, 
which shoots oil under pressure into the brick 
fire box. When these four burners, which are 
distributed equally across the boiler front, are 
lighted, a tremendous heat is thrown in, mak- 
ing steam in the many tiers of slanting tubes 
above. One of these cones on the port boiler 
was taken out, so as to enable a man to crawl 
in and see what damage had been done. The 
Second, of course, had charge of the fire-room, 
so the Chief ordered him in. It had been ru- 
mored that a number of tubes had split in ad- 
dition to the trouble with the brick work. The 


One Hundred Ninety-five 


SEA GRIST 


boiler had had little chance to cool down, con- 
sequently it was a regular furnace in there. 
The Second refused to go in. The Cliief 
stamped around in his anger, like a small boy 
denied some pleasure. 

“Who the Hell will go in and mark those 
tubes?” he shouted. “Here Slip,” he turned 
to me, I being nearest, “take this chalk and 
mark all the split tubes.” Come on, buck up, 
show the cowards you aren’t afraid.” 

As he spoke he threw two or three planks 
in for me to stand on. Putting on my gloves I 
started for the main hole. I would not betray 
my fear to the Gang for a mint. Although 
I was shaking from head to foot, I was deter- 
mined to go in and mark the tubes, if it took 
my last ounce of strength. That feeling of 
bravado crept into my system, and stimulated 
my moral courage, until I felt indeed like a 
martyr to the cause. 

Although the bricks inside the boiler did 
not glow, there was about as much heat given 
out. As I drew the remainder of my body 
through the opening, it seemed as though I 
was breathing fire. The terrific heat seemed 
to wrinkle my very flesh, until it felt as though 
it covered a bag of bones. The planks upon 


One Hundred Ninety-si: 


SEA GRIST 


which I stood caught fire, almost immediately, 
by the added pressure of my weight. I dared 
not touch a single object, even my gloves were 
smouldering. The buttons on my clothing be- 
came so hot that they burned my flesh. I felt 
as though I would faint, and struggled to keep 
up my courage, but it was useless. I dropped 
to the hole, scarcely knowing what I was about, 
and was dragged to the fire-room floor-plates. 
There the men were perspiring easily, but to 
me it seemed like an ice box. Some one, I 
think it was Bill, carried me over to the main 
ventilator, and set me on the manifold box. 

The Chief saw that it would be useless to 
send a man in there, so made preparations to 
cool the boiler down by artificial methods. He 
was still furious at the Second for refusing to 
do his duty, and disrated him on the spot. He 
told him that he was guilty of mutiny, and was 
lucky to get off as easily as he had. 

The men set about taking off the boiler 
doors, and practically undoing all the work we 
had done in Glasgow. It made me sick to think 
of all the work ahead. The knocking in of the 
cups, taking out split tubes, and when finished, 
rolling the cups again under steam. I began to 
feel sorry for myself, and the world. After 


One Hundred Ninety-seven 


SEA GRIST 


an hour’s rest, I felt strong enough to work 
again, and was sent up behind the boilers to 
help pull the iron doors to the boiler top. It was 
tough work, as the Chief had an eye on us 
and consequently we had little time to rest. 
We worked all that night, and most of the next 
day. The Chief came down after his nap at 
three o’clock and told us to knock off. 

I was so dog tired that I could scarcely drag 
myself up the last three steps of the ladder. 
The whole six of us parked ourselves out on the 
deck, in the cool breeze. We were black from 
head to foot, with boiler soot and grease, and 
too dead tired to wash up and go to bed. I felt 
almost hysterical as I sat there. I still pos- 
sessed energy, however, and I wanted to do 
something foolish. Thinking is acting, so I 
stumbled aft and got my camera, taking a few 
snap shots of the dirty Gang. 

We were now very near the Island of 
Fayal. It loomed up ahead as a rolling barren 
waste, with a small town scattered on its edge. 
As we approached, we saw that it was not bar- 
ren, but quite a productive country. Farther 
inland, the patches of green grew larger, until 
miles back it was a mass of foliage. We 
dropped anchor just inside the shore line of a 


One Hundred Ninety-eight 


SEA GRIST 


large natural bay. Across from the bay, and 
the scattered village, about ten miles, rose an 
immense cone-like mountain, so high that 
clouds drifted lazily around its apex. There 
were three other American ships in the bay, 
and we were anchored the farthest out of them 
all. Two of them were quite similar to ours, 
only much smaller, while the third was an old 
wooden freighter. However, they all flew 
the Stars and Stripes, which made us feel quite 
at home, they being the only ships in at the 
time. 

It was difficult for us to believe that the 
Azores were but the mountain tops of that an- 
cient, drowned continent, Atlantis, which was 
supposed to have existed nine thousands years 
before the time of Christ. This huge island ac- 
cording to Solon the old prophet of Athens, 
was the origin of the white race, and at the 
time it submerged, contained several millions 
of highly civilized people. This is no longer a 
theory but an established fact, as the United 
States and Great Britain sent out an expedi- 
tion of ships just before the World War, which 
by taking soundings, proved that this conti- 
nent, as outlined by Plato, was raised eight 
thousand feet above the ocean bottom. These 


One Hundred Ninety-nine 


SEA GRIST 


facts were painted vividly in our imaginations, 
and we could not but think what we should 
see, should this great continent again rise and 
reveal to us what has so long been a deep 
mystery to the world. 

Our engines were now still, and we were 
rocking lazily on the small swells. The Gang 
was still sitting on deck, when the Chief came 
up. He told us that he was going to have the 
work done by two eight-hour shifts, and imme- 
diately began to divide us up. All hands be- 
low now off watch, even the engineers, were 
put on one of the shifts. Bill was to work by 
day, and my work commenced at four o’clock 
in the afternoon, continuing until midnight. 
The Chief told me to turn in and get some 
sleep, but “turn to” at eight. that night. 

When my watch was called at eight o’clock 
I was dead to the world. I did not even awake 
after a severe shaking. Almost giving up, the 
oiler, who had been sent to call me, resorted to 
crueler methods. He was a big fellow, and he 
lifted me out of my bunk bodily and bumped 
me on the deck. This method was quite ef- 
fective, as I assured him “con mucho exclama- 
tion.” I was very sore and stiff, and as I drew 
on my wet clothes I fell asleep again on the 


Two Hundred 


bunk. This was only momentary, however, as 
the oiler reminded me of my duty. 

When I got below I found that the men on 
the night shift knew nothing about boiler work. 
The Chief did not know it, but when he found 
it out he placed me in charge. Imagine it! A 
wiper in charge of boiler work, and over the 
Third at that. I was too sleepy to think of any- 
thing but my work. I was familiar with the 
run of things, and gave my orders accordingly. 
I knew all the men on the Gang well, and tried 
hard not to make them feel that I was just or- 
dering them around, and taking advantage of 
my authority. We got along in fine shape, and 
in spite of my drowsiness I began to enjoy 
it. I revelled in the fact that I was in the thick 
of it, and doing my part. The Chief did not 
show up that night, but in spite of the fact we 
got a good bit of work accomplished. 

I hit the bunk shortly after the bewitching 
hour, unwashed, and in dirty clothes, and did 
not get up until the next noon for dinner. I do 
not believe that I had moved all night long, as 
I still lay in the same position I had taken the 
night before. Food tasted delicious, as I was 
weak from the want of it. Violent exertion had 
used up all my energy, and it was not until the 


Two Hundred One 


SEA GRIST 


middle of the afternoon that I felt normal 
again. 

By this time our presence had been made 
known to the town, and literally dozen of row- 
boats, or bum-boats, as they are called by the 
sailors, came out with their merchandise. They 
were large skiffs, operated by two or three of 
the natives who were Portuguese. They had 
everything from canary birds to liquor, and as 
they reached the side they would fondle their 
goods, or hold them up, making bashful noises 
of advertisement. The men off duty just hung 
on the railing, watching their opportunity for 
a bargain. These bum-boat men are very 
shrewd, in spite of their simple ways, and 
rarely do they get the poor end of the bargain. 
Many English ships stop here for repairs, so 
they have a fairly good idea of the language, 
as well as the wants of the sailors. A good deal 
trading is done, the men exchanging their old 
clothing for cigarettes, and various souvenirs 
of the island. 

The second night of boiler work was man- 
aged by the First, who was an adept at that 
kind of work. He knew the boiler from start 
to finish, and ragged us to the limit. He al- 
ways saw something to do, that to me did not 


Two Hundred Two 


SEA GRIST 


seem necessary until we were ready for the 
next step. The Chief ran the day shift, so 
there was much competition between the two. 

The First was liked much better than the 
Chief, consequently we always had the most 
work accomplished at the end of the watch. 
Although the First worked his men hard, he 
treated them right, and they respected him a 
great deal for it. 

I remember one night we had been working 
harder than usual inside of the firebox, which 
by now had cooled down considerably. We 
had been taking turn about at a heavy sledge 
for more than two hours, and were quite tired, 
not to say hungry. The First sent a man up 
to the galley to make toast and coffee, and 
when it was made the four of us ate it inside of 
the firebox. I will never forget that little 
scene. An electric bulb was suspended by a 
cord from the slanting tubes, and threw a yel- 
low light over the three grimy figures. The 
First was practically unrecognizable, for soot 
and grease, and the rest of us could not have 
been any cleaner. We sat stretched in a part 
sitting, and part lying posture, gulping our hot 
coffee, and eating the crisp toast out of filthy 
paws. 


Two Hundred Three 


SEA GRIST 


The work continued for a week, until it 
came time to put the new tubes in place. The 
Chief went off on another tangent when he 
found that we were a few dozen tubes short. 
There were none ashore, and the two steel ves- 
sels in the bay had none to spare. As a last 
resort he tried the old wooden tub, and she let 
us have a hundred. We no doubt would have 
been there yet had it not been for the “Eva.” 
It was a problem how we were to get them 
aboard. At length a large barge was borrowed 
from ashore, and with the assistance of a small 
motor launch they were towed alongside. Each 
tube weighed about seventy pounds, and the 
barge was close to the water line, making the 
hoist a considerable distance. 

There was no available means of getting 
them up on the deck except to hand them up. 
The gang stairway was lowered until it was 
exactly between the water and the deck. The 
Chief told Jim to stand on the barge and hand 
them to me on the end of the gang stairway, 
and I in turn would swing them up to Bill, who 
was on the deck. Most of the ship’s crew 
stood watching us. It was backbreaking work 
for me, as I had to grasp the end as Jim held 
it up, pull the dead weight up far enough, so 


Two Hundred Four 


that I could get under it, and swing it to Bill, 
who was barely able to grasp the end. The 
barge moved with the swell, and when the 
swell was down, I was unable to reach the tube 
at all. After an hour of it I managed with 
what remaining strength I had left, to swing 
the last tube on board. 

All three of us felt about backbroken, and 
pleaded with the Chief to let us off for the 
night. Having gotten his tubes on board the 
Chief was in good humor, and said that both 
the day and night shift might “knock off” a 
watch, which meant that our shift did not have 
to “turn to” until four o’clock the next after- 
noon. I could almost have wept with the 
thought of it. The continuous work had be- 
gun to tell upon the men, and I felt that I had 
lost at least ten pounds within one week. 

When the launch came out after the Skip- 
per about ten o’clock the next morning, the 
whole gang of us went along. The launch was 
crowded, and we shipped a good deal of water 
in the choppy seas. It seemed good to set foot 
on terra-firma once again. The Gang separated 
upon reaching the shore, and spread out in 
every direction, each according to his inclina- 
tion. I had a letter to mail home, so made for 


Two Hundred Five 


SEA GRIST 


the center of the town, where I would be quite 
apt to find some kind of a postoffice. The 
stores and dwellings were two story affairs, 
built in the style typical only to the Spanish 
and Portugese. They are made largely from 
adobe, and their windows are covered with nar- 
row green shutters, which are usually partly 
open. A few of the better houses are made 
from small pieces of granite squares, laid alter- 
nately in red, blue and white, giving rather a 
gaudy appearance to the stranger. The 
dwellings indicate that there are just two 
classes of people on the island — the peasant 
class and the extremely rich. Both classes, 
however, appeared to live the simple life, as 
there were no automobiles, street cars, or 
movies. Oxen and mules served as their only 
means of transportation. 

I was quite amused at seeing a rather 
young looking woman cross the center of the 
town, driving half a dozen ganders before her 
with a switch, and pulling three little pigs be- 
hind, by means of strings tied to their hind 
legs. She wore a quaint Portugese costume, 
which lent a good deal of color to the picture. 
The majority of the people of this sparsely 
populated village wore very antique costumes 


Two Hundred Six 


SEA GRIST 


which matched their dark, even features very 
well indeed. The two-wheeled ox carts on the 
streets must have seen at least three hundred 
years, as they groaned and squeaked at every 
step of their tired looking motive power. Chil- 
dren, with their highly colored hats and cloth- 
ing, played in the streets with barking dogs, 
their elders standing on the near by streets 
watching them. 

I walked the uneven dirt streets until I 
came to what I thought was the postoffice. A 
crude sign, printed in Portugese, hung over the 
entrance. I had a slight knowledge of Spanish, 
and it looked like postoffice, so I walked in. 
A group of officers were conversing when I en- 
tered, and upon seeing me they jabbered ex- 
clamations of some kind, and set upon me from 
all sides, bearing me to the street. A taller 
man than the rest, with a black mustache, who 
was evidently their leader, stood in front of 
me gravely shaking his head and lecturing in 
my direction. I pointed to my letter, and made 
signs that I wished to mail it. He did not un- 
derstand, so I pointed to the corner of the en- 
velope, where the stamp should be. For the 
life of me I could not think of the Spanish 
word for stamp, until he said it. 


Two Hundred Seven 


SEA GRIST 


“Thielo,” he said nodding his head vio- 
lently, and looking at me with big eyes. “Listed 
quiero comprar los thielos?” His face fairly 
beamed with understanding. Selecting one of 
his officers he evidently told him to show me 
to the postoffice, as the rest filed into the build- 
ing, which I found later to be the Arsenal. 

“Quero comprar los thielos,’' I repeated for 
fear my guide did not understand. He nodded, 
and took me by the arm to the upper end of the 
town. Just by chance we ran across the 
“Deck” and Hal, who took it for granted that 
I had been pinched. They jeered at us good 
naturedly, telling me that they would be back 
with the bail a little later. The postoffice was 
in a remote part of the town, so my guide and 
I were quite well acquainted by the time we 
reached it. I kept asking “Como se llama?” 
this and “Como se llama?” that in Portugese. 
I would point to the object and he would give 
me the name. He in turn asked me a few 
questions, and I gave him the English names. 

The postoffice was a low two-story building 
and we had to climb a few quite worn steps, 
before we reached the stamp window, which 
was also the window for all of the many wants 
known. “Quero comprar tres thielos por los 


Two Hundred Eight 


SEA GRIST 


Estados Unidos,” I told the clerk. He did not 
understand, so I repeated it. Still he did not 
understand, so my guide said something to 
him that sounded quite similar to what I had 
said. He smiled and complied, as I gave him 
a silver dollar. Now in Horta an American 
dollar is worth six thousand Reis, and an in- 
habitant of the place could live there the entire 
year on ten dollars. I say an inhabitant, be- 
cause they are the only people who understand 
the money, the rest are cheated right and left. 
It seemed that the paper and change that I re- 
ceived would fill a pint measure. It was the 
first time in my life that I had ever felt rich 
with ninety-eight cents. 

When I dismissed my guide a little later, 
I presented him with one of my paper diplo- 
mas, with which he seemed very much pleased. 
I ran across John a little farther towards the 
town, and as it was still early in the day, we 
decided to take a walk inland. We discovered 
a narrow road, lined with low, green trees and 
an occasional house, that led in our desired di- 
rection. The road was slightly inclined, and 
when we finally gained the summit, we found 
the view most pleasing. It was a green moun- 
tainous country, the little valley before us was 


Two Hundred Nine 


SEA GRIST 


scattered with ten and fifteen acre farms, with 
a small adobe house squatting squarely in the 
middle of each. Green corn was abundant, 
and melons of all kinds and sizes seemed to 
thrive beautifully. Many of the little huts 
were adorned with long grape arbors, which 
boasted many fat bunches of succulent grapes. 

The noon hour passed while we were walk- 
ing through this wonderful little valley, and 
the juicy aroma of fried onions caught our nos- 
trils more than once. We thought of asking 
one of the peasants for a water melon, but I 
could not think of the word, although I sat 
down and thought hard. At length we came to 
a good sized patch close to a house. A boy 
was standing on the doorstep, and I pointed at 
one of the melons, and finally picked it from 
the vine. He raised a noisy protest, and a 
woman who evidently was his mother, came to 
the door. I approached her, still determined 
to have the melon. When I made signs to take 
it she shook her head violently, but when I 
drew forth a nice new diploma, her head shook 
less violently, and she began to smile quite 
graciously. Her palm stretched out, and I was 
about to give it to her, when I saw five hun- 
dred written on one corner of it. To think of 


Two Hundred Ten 


SEA GRIST 


paying five hundred, of anything, even Reis, 
for a watermelon was outrageous. I withdrew 
it, and handed her one of much smaller denom- 
ination. She hesitated, though still smiling, 
and finally accepted my offer. It was one hun- 
dred Reis, which is equivalent to two cents in 
American money. 

We broke the melon on a stone, and ate it 
as we walked along the road. The way was 
growing more difficult now, as \ye had left the 
valley and were approaching the more moun- 
tainous country. After climbing for a quarter 
of an hour, we came upon an immense clear- 
ing surrounded by trees, with a little stone 
chapel at one end. Crossing a stone bridge of 
plain architecture similar to the chapel, we 
walked a short distance, and found another 
small village. We were met on every hand by 
barking dogs, and playing children. The mu- 
nicipal grape arbor fairly resounded with barks 
and childish shouts. 

We came upon a little wine shop, with a 
tempting patio in the rear. We were hot from 
our walk, and it looked so cool and inviting 
that we entered. It happened that the pro- 
prietor had been in the States at one time, and 
he was overjoyed at seeing us, asking a number 


Two Hundred Eleven 


SEA GRIST 


of questions in fairly good English. He had 
obtained a Baltimore paper from one of the 
ships in recently, and we fairly devoured the 
news. I think we would have welcomed a yel- 
low dog had he just come from the States. Our 
host was very hospitable, bringing watermel- 
ons, grapes, and even wines to our shady table 
under the arbor. As we started to leave, John 
attempted to press a bill into his hand, but he 
would have none of it. He almost acted as 
though he were insulted. 

By the shop keeper’s direction, we fol- 
lowed the path through the remainder of the 
village, and down to the coast again, thus cut- 
ting a half-circle from our original starting 
point. It was quite late in the afternoon, and 
when we reached the beach the whole Gang 
was there waiting for the Skipper’s boat. We 
were fortunate in arriving when we did, as oth- 
erwise we would have been left to the mercy of 
the natives overnight. 


Two Hundred Twelve 


CHAPTER X 
Extended Boiler Work 
Azores 

'TirHE Chief sent ashore for help, as we did 
not have the proper tools to handle the 
tubes. Four small natives and a boy took our 
positions and we resumed our painting in the 
engine-room. We were highly elated at this, al- 
though I had been getting seventy-five cents 
an hour for eight hours every night. As we 
had the work nearly completed when the na- 
tives came aboard, it took them but two days to 
finish up. Then our real work commenced, 
as the cups at both the front and back of the 
boiler had to be pulled into place and rolled 
with the cup roller. The blow tubes had to be 
connected at the front of the boiler after all 
else had been finished. 

It costs thousands of dollars per day to 
have a ship tied up with cargo and men. Every 
day was a delay, and every day the net profit 
of the trip was lowered by a few thousands. 
The Chief and the First hung over us at every 


Two Hundred Thirteen 


SEA GRIST 


opportunity, getting the utmost out of the men. 
The men worked willingly enough, but they 
were human and sometimes became tired. At 
the end of every watch the night shift had 
rolled just a few more rows of cups than had 
the day shift. The Chief had the same number 
of men, and it humbled him to think that the 
First got more work out of his men. 

On the evening of our twelfth day in Horta 
Bay, the four fires were lighted under the port 
boiler. In three hours we had the full amount 
of steam under her, and all the cups leaked like 
a sieve. The back of the boiler was alive with 
shooting and hissing steam where the cups had 
not been made tight. There was only one thing 
to do, and that was to climb up there with 
rollers and re-roll every leaking cup. It was 
indeed a hazardous thing to do, but it had to be 
done. To mark the leaking cups and cool the 
boiler down would mean the loss of several 
hours. 

The Chief sent two oilers and myself up 
there to do the dirty work. Steam burns are 
exceedingly painful, as we very soon discov- 
ered. We would run in and place a roller and 
give it a few turns, then run to the boiler side. 
In a few seconds we would return again, give 


Two Hundred Fourteen 


SEA GRIST 


the tool a few more twists, take it out, then 
make all speed possible for the open. In this 
way all of the leaking cups were made steam 
tight, much to the satisfaction of the Chief, 
who even wasted a few words of praise upon 
us. We had finished at the end of our watch, 
and were pulling out of the bay before we 
struck our bunks that memorable night. 

The next morning the Chief instructed us 
wipers to fasten the six doors on the boiler 
back before it got too hot for us to be able to 
do it. Jim climbed up first, but came down im- 
mediately, saying that he would not work up 
there for anybody, not even the First. He was 
afraid of the First so we surmised that it must 
be pretty hot up there. The former Second, 
who was now Third, came to the rescue and 
offered to help us. It takes some twelve hours 
for a boiler to attain its full heat, and eight of 
those twelve had already passed. Every mo- 
ment’s delay would make the work that much 
harder, so we all decided to “do it now.” Bill 
and the Second stood below to fasten the nuts, 
while Jim and I let the doors down one at a 
time. After each door had been fastened we 
made “pronto” speed for the engine-room ven- 


Two Hundred Fifteen 


SEA GRIST 


tilator, where we would stay until we recovered 
our breath. 

We had all on but the last door. Jim and 
I had been holding on to the one rope fastened 
to the center of the big iron door. His shoes 
burned through suddenly and he let go of the 
rope. In order to save the door from falling on 
the heads of Bill and the Second, I uncon- 
sciously grabbed for the first support, which 
was an open steam line. This gave them a 
chance to duck before the door went clattering 
to the bottom. I had worn heavy gloves or my 
hand might still be sticking to the steam line. 
As it was it was nothing but a slight burn. 
After a short rest we summoned our courage 
to put the last door in place. The air was so 
stifling that it made me feel panicky. We 
wanted to run at every breath, but knew that 
if it were prolonged a few more seconds it 
would be finished. As the last nut was ham- 
mered into place we dropped to the floor-plates, 
practically in a state of exhaustion. Bill lost 
consciousness before he even reached the ven- 
tilator. We carried him to his hammock on the 
poop deck and the fresh air soon brought him 
to. The Chief, growing suddenly quite hu- 


Two Hundred Sixteen 


SEA GRIST 


man, told him to “knock off’' for a couple of 
days. 

The Steward had not planned on such a 
lengthy trip and consequently we began to run 
low on food. We usually had the same menu 
at every meal, which to say the least grew tire- 
some. One evening the grub was so bad that 
everyone in the firemen’s and sailors’ mess pa- 
raded to the Steward’s room and registered a 
kick. The Steward was a small man and for a 
time I feared for his life. The Gang went next 
to the big Greek, who met us at the galley door 
with a meat cleaver. This argument was com- 
posed of words only, the Gang being afraid to 
force the argument. After that the grub was 
tolerably better and we all managed to eat it 
without another demonstration. I was always 
hungry, so the food seemed to have a certain 
amount of relish, but had I been compelled to 
eat the same food at home I know it would 
have made me sick. 

By Shaft Alley Wireless predictions, we 
would reach Saint Thomas in four more days. 
I dreaded the thought of that, but was con- 
soled when I found that we would be there no 
more than a day. The time passed quickly. 
Jim and I had resumed our painting, and were 


Two Hundred Seventeen 


SEA GRIST 


now nearly finished with the white. The Mate 
had a good-sized library in his room and I 
spent the majority of my evenings reading 
from Balzac. The monotony was occasionally 
broken by a fight, and all hands ofP watch usu- 
ally came on deck to watch, until the fight was 
stopped by one of the officers. The hard work 
and poor food proved to be a good test for dis- 
positions. Men who had been quite angelic at 
the beginning of the trip were now noted for 
their quick temper. 

I recall that one day both dynamos were 
out of commission and Earnest, one of the 
water-tenders, came on deck and borrowed a 
lamp from the oiler’s room so that he could 
see his steam and water gauges. The lights 
came on later in the day and he neglected to 
return the lamp. The oiler, although he did 
not need it, came angrily below and started to 
cuss the little water-tender roundly for not re- 
turning it immediately. The latter did not say 
a word but went about his work paying no at- 
tention to him. The oiler, growing still more 
angry at the other’s indifference, grabbed him 
by the shoulder and spun him around so that 
they were face to face. There was no com- 
parison in their size, as the oiler was at least 


Two Hundred Eighteen 


SEA GRIST 


fifty pounds heavier. Earnest just looked at 
him a minute, then swinging from behind hit 
him squarely in the mouth, knocking him half- 
way across the fire-room. Some of the men 
had branded Earnest as a coward so we half 
expected him to run. He did not, however, but 
went half-way to meet his opponent, who stag- 
gered toward him over the slippery floor-plates. 
At this point the First entered and Earnest 
went back to his boiler as though he and the 
oiler had just finished a little game. The men 
ducked and inside of three seconds there was 
no sign of a fight. 

A few mornings later we were awakened 
by sounds of a scuffle on the deck. Bill and I 
emerged from the fok’sl in time to see the petty 
officer’s mess-boy scamper up the mast with 
the Greek cook after him. The Greek soon 
discontinued the chase and pretended to go 
into the galley, whereupon the mess-boy re- 
turned to the deck. He had no sooner reached 
it than the cook returned at full speed. He did 
not have time to reclimb the mast, so started 
toward us. We let him by, then again blocked 
the passageway, so the cook went in the port 
passageway and caught the mess-boy by the 
steering engine. To us he was very barbaric 


Two Hundred Nineteen 


SEA GRIST 


in his warfare. Before we could stop him he 
sank his teeth deep into his victim’s side, 
through dungaree’s and all. After we pulled 
them apart we examined the wound, which 
looked very much like the bite from a canine. 
The Third Mate appeared on the scene and 
sent the lawbreakers back to the galley to fin- 
ish getting the breakfast. The trouble, we 
found out later, had been caused by the cook’s 
cat, which had been found on the petty officer’s 
table. The mess-boy, in a fit of anger, had 
thrown the cat overboard, and the Greek had 
taken an early vengeance. 

We pulled into Saint Thomas about eleven 
o’clock one Sunday morning. It was a beau- 
tiful day and a warm one, so all of the crew 
but a few officers went ashore for a swim. Bill 
and I had forgotten our little escapade in those 
waters a few months previous and rested as- 
sured that there would be safety in numbers. 
We picked a steep sloping sandy beach about 
a mile from the ship. Some of the more in- 
genious members of the crew rigged up a very 
good springboard, which we all enjoyed. 

The water was quite transparent and we 
could easily see the white sandy bottom, twen- 
ty feet below. The temperature was very mild 


Two Hundred Twenty 


and we stayed in all of three hours. If there 
had been difficulties among members of the 
crew, they were speedily forgotten. All were 
laughing and splashing about having the best 
of times. A few of the officers went in, and 
they mingled freely with the men ; an outsider 
could not have told them apart. Some of the 
men could not swim, and those of a more re- 
tiring disposition were thrown in bodily, and 
great sport was made of their splashing efforts 
to reach shore. Jim found a large spar and 
dragged it to the beach. It supported at least 
a dozen without sinking. Several laid length- 
wise and paddling with both hands and feet 
made exceptional speed, the sharp point cut- 
ting the water like a speed boat. No matter how 
austere and dominating an officer could be on 
board, he was helpless while in the water. The 
men took great pleasure in ducking the Third 
Mate, who sputtered and made a great fuss, 
which brought him down considerably. We 
would have stayed in all day, I believe, had it 
not been necessary for us to eat. 

Our ship had stopped only long enough to 
take oil, so we were out again that evening. 
We were surprised to find a stranger at our 
table that night. He was a man hard of face. 


Two Hundred Twenty-( 


SEA GRIST 


and old of figure, his experience making up for 
his years. He told us that the Skipper had 
allowed him to come aboard as a workaway, 
but he was too weak to work. He had been 
interned at the native hospital for months wait- 
ing for a ship to take him off. As the laws of 
the island prevent a patient from leaving be- 
fore he is well, some of the patients stay there 
for years, so he was overjoyed at the prospect 
of seeing his own country again. He told us 
later that he had spent several years in Japan 
exchanging boxing lessons for Jujitsu, and be- 
fore the trip was over he showed us some of 
the art he had learned. 

Two days out of Saint Thomas the firemen 
had a terrible time to keep the fires going un- 
der the boilers. There was barely enough 
steam at times to revolve the turbine. The 
Chief said that we had been given water in the 
oil at Saint Thomas, and he was in favor of 
turning right back. As there would not have 
been enough to get us across the wide Carib- 
bean we hit south to Curacao, a small port in 
the Dutch West Indies. We reached it just 
before noon, so the First knocked us off a 
little early in order that we could go for another 
swim. At least a dozen of us jumped over the 


Two Hundred Twenty-two 


SEA GRIST 


side into the warm current. The swimming 
was even more wonderful here than in 
Thomas, except for sea spiders which bit a 
number of those diving from the rigging. The 
men would strike the water at a sharp angle, 
their momentum carrying them to the bottom, 
where the little monsters fed on their prey. I 
was fortunate in not getting bitten, but in 
watching the afflicted ones I was reminded very 
much of the thrust of a stingray that I had once 
received. 

The island was hilly with nothing but a 
barren waste and a town huddled along the 
narrow water front. There seemed to be many 
mountain-like islands only a few acres in diam- 
eter, and on the summit of some stood an occa- 
sional shack with a rope ladder running to a 
landing below. The natives are a mixture of 
black, brown and red, giving the appearance 
of being assimilated from every race color. 
They were very ignorant, except on money 
matters. As we were docked within ten feet 
of the shore, Mike stepped down and mingled 
with a few of the peddlers. He flashed a five 
hundred Reis note, which looks similar to a 
five dollar bill, and the natives began to bar- 
gain with him immediately. He pretended 


Two Hundred Twenty-three 


SEA GRIST 


that he was drunk, so they thought they were 
taking advantage of him by selling him a three 
dollar box of the finest cigars for his note, 
which was worth ten cents. He returned on 
board highly elated and began to pass them 
around. By that time the native had found out 
how he had been cheated and jumped and 
stamped on the dock, shaking an angry fist 
at us. The natives were not allowed aboard so 
we felt quite safe. 

We felt quite elated when the Shaft Alley 
Wireless announced that we were within a few 
days of Panama. Only to be back at an 
American port again, where things are done in 
a progressive way, and where the people can 
speak English! It actually seemed as though 
we had been on the planet Mars for four 
months. We had seen all kinds of scenery, 
peoples and countries, and were tired of it. 
Only to be on good American soil again, and 
talk with countrymen of our own class! 

Our steady progress was broken when the 
air pump stopped quite suddenly one night. 
Everyone had been somewhat out of sorts, but 
now that a new thing had come up to block 
our progress, agitated nerves were not unpop- 
ular. The men were through with the ship 


Two Hundred Twenty-four 


SEA GRIST 


and were almost willing to lower the boats. 
Complete disgust could not have been ex- 
pressed any more clearly than the Chief took 
pains to demonstrate for us. He raved all the 
time we were working on the pump, cussing 
the Skipper, the ship, and the air pump, in 
oaths that made us fairly catch our breath. At 
length it was finished and we were on our way 
again, every hour fully expecting some new 
difficulty to spring up. It even came to the 
point where Bill and I slept with our clothes 
on, expecting to be called at any time. The 
last day before we reached Panama the air 
pump stopped five times. Our patience had 
left us long before and we just kept up on our 
nerve until we had finished. 

We reached Colon in the evening and as no 
ships can pass through the Canal after dark, 
we tied up to the dock for over night. It was 
the first complete rest that we had had for 
days, only it was too short lived. We pulled 
out at day-break the following morning. The 
day was Sunday, so we reclined in our ham- 
mocks all day while passing through the Canal. 
The Chief told us that he had received a head- 
line clipping from his wife, saying: “Big S. S. 
Havilah lost off coast of Azores.’' This wor- 


Two Hundred Twenty-five 


SEA GRIST 


ried us a good deal as we were afraid that our 
parents would see it and give us up for lost. 

A few hours before dark we arrived at 
Balboa and tied up alongside a large machine 
shop. The sailors began to put the rat funnels 
over the shore lines, so we concluded that we 
were to stay a while at least. John and I lost 
no time in going ashore, as well as the rest of 
the Gang. The first thing that caught our eye 
was a ship of our type and tonnage tied in the 
berth behind us, that was almost completely 
destroyed by fire. It had sunk somewhere off 
the west coast, and had been raised and 
brought to port for salvage. It appeared to be 
immensely interesting so we disregarded the 
red “danger keep off” sign and clambered 
aboard her. Her decks were warped and as we 
went amidships we found all of the officers 
quarters practically demolished. Heavy red 
rust covered everything. The galley, however, 
appeared to be in the same condition as when 
the ship burned. Looking down into her en- 
gine-room we saw that she was a recipro- 
cating and not a turbine. The huge valve 
stems were warped and rusted, and the fire- 
room seemed to be completely under water. 
The quarters aft were not in such a bad 


Two Hundred Twenty-sh 


SEA GRIST 


shape. The bedding had all burned and the 
fok’sl head was charred, the whole fok’sl being 
smeared with smoke. We could not help but 
picture our ship looking like that had it burned 
while at sea, and finally sunk with all hands 
aboard. The thing seemed to haunt our minds 
and as we looked below we could almost see 
the phantom form of the engineer still standing 
at his post. 

After mess that night Bill and I went 
ashore. Although quite penniless we made up 
our minds to see the sights and have a good 
time. It was extremely warm, so we left our 
coats and collars aboard. The scenery was 
very beautiful and most impressive after we 
had passed the last sign of the docks. Thatched 
bungalows with green lawns lined wide asphalt 
streets. Palm trees were abundant with the 
other heavy foliage which darkened the land- 
scape at every interval. At the wide intersec- 
tions under arc lights we saw many negro 
women with their banana stands. At every 
turn we were met by: “Aint’cha gwine ta buy 
a ban — ana?” They were large fine ones, too, 
some of them weighing at least half a pound 
and selling for only fifteen cents a dozen. If 
one were poor and wished to take the time, he 


Two Hundred Twenty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


could get them at almost his own figure. The 
women go into the jungles whenever their sup- 
ply is exhausted and bring forth the fresh yel- 
low fruit in large quantities. 

We passed on until we reached the big 
American Employee’s Clubhouse, which was 
an immense two-story building surrounded by 
screen porches. It was set back from the street 
in a jungle of rich foliage, and gave quite an 
inviting appearance. In the large white din- 
ing room we could see groups of people dip- 
ping into various cold dishes, and it nearly 
made us lose our sense of honesty. We had 
had no ice cream for four months. 

Balboa is owned and operated strictly by 
the United States Government. It is decidedly 
new in appearance, as it did not exist until 
operations had commenced on the canal. Go- 
ing north beyond this point is the old city of 
Panama, which is the principal city of the Re- 
public of Panama. The division line between 
the two is marked by a high hill. Had it not 
been for the hill, however, one could easily tell 
where the one begins and the other leaves off. 
The city is made up of the older Spanish class, 
which has intermingled freely with the Mexi- 
cans and Panamaians. They are not an intel- 


Two Hundred Twenty-eight 


SEA GRIST 


lectual type of people by any means and do not 
seem to have any particular aspirations, except 
to live, to enjoy life, and to be comfortable. 

The lower part of the city, which we had 
to pass through, was made up chiefly of cheap 
saloons and rooming houses. We saw narrow, 
filthy streets, filled with snarling dogs and dis- 
eased children. Unkempt women were every- 
where to be seen. This did not last long, then 
we reached the Plaza, which is in the heart of 
the city. In this big square the band plays 
every evening, affording ample entertainment 
for the poor. We joined the audience and en- 
joyed it as much as anyone. The Plaza is one 
mass of foliage, with small clearings and walks 
where the listening congregation sit and stand. 
They make as much noise when the music is 
stopped as when it is going, so it really does 
not make much difference. 

We were quite confident that we would be 
able to get money, as we had our check books 
and credentials. However, every bank refused 
us, telling us that we would have to have the 
endorsement of some merchant in the city. We 
did not know any, so made an appeal to the 
American Consul, who either could not, or 
would not, do anything for us. We even tried 


Two Hundred Twenty-nii 


SEA GRIST 


the public houses that were open, and, as a last 
resort, the American Hotel. The proprietor re- 
fused us, and as we walked away a young 
American fellow staggered up and pulling out 
a large roll of bills threw us fifty cents. We 
were too disgusted to even pick it up, but on 
second thoughts went back and pocketed it. 
At the exchange we changed part of our souve- 
nir money for eighty cents and started for the 
clubhouse. I believe if we had had five dollars 
we could have eaten it all up in ice cream. 
There seemed to be a cavity there that had no 
known depth. 

The next day the Chief offered me two dol- 
lars, all the money he had, for my clippers. 
No one to speak of had any money, except the 
Skipper, so I refused. Had I accepted I would 
have been bored with petty loans. That night 
the Gang sat on deck, hands in their empty 
pockets, wishing for money. For some un- 
known reason, the Skipper would not give us 
any money. He had even refused the Chief. 
The latter was sore clear through and had we 
been at sea under the prevailing conditions, 
mutiny might have followed. The First came 
on deck a little later and struck me for a loan. 


Two Hundred Thirty 


SEA GRIST 


“ril dare you to bum the Skipper for a 
loan,” he said, looking at me with his piercing 
blue eyes. 

“I’ll match you who asks him,” I said. 
“He’s up in his cabin now.” 

He accepted and the coin was tossed. If 
it came up tails I was to ask him, and tails it 
was. The Chief had been up so often and had 
been refused that the men believed I had very 
little chance indeed. 

“I’ll bet the ‘Ole Man’ knocks him through 
the door,” someone was kind enough to sur- 
mise. I could not back down now, so climbed 
to the boat deck with pounding heart. Knock- 
ing meekly on the door, I was greeted with a 
gruff “Come in.” I opened the door and stood 
just inside, cap in hand, waiting for him to look 
up from his desk. “What do ye want?” he 
said, without looking up. The psychology of 
it told me that it was a very inopportune time 
to strike him for a loan . I was thinking what 
I could say to excuse myself, when he at length 
glanced up. “Oh ! so it’s you, eh ? Well, what 
can I do for you?” His tone had changed a 
little, so I thought I would risk it. 

“W — hy er — a. I’d appreciate a small loan 
very much,” I tried to tell him. 


Two Hundred Thirty- 


“All right, get out,’' he thundered, tossing 
me a silver dollar. I lost no time in getting out, 
I can tell you, and made for the Gang below. 

“Well, Slip, ye don’t seem to be hurt any,” 
Jim said as I slid down to the deck. “How 
much did the ‘Ole Man’ give ye?” 

“Not a red cent,” I lied, knowing full 
well that if 1 wished to keep my hard-earned 
money I must be still about it. 

The bad food for the past month had 
caused many of the men to have boils. Those 
affected got permits from the Chief and went 
ashore to have them attended to. I had suf- 
fered from infection about the calves of my 
legs, so struck the Chief for a day off also. It 
was a good thing that he did not ask to see 
them as the marks had nearly gone and I would 
have been deprived of my so-called vacation. 
The work that I had been doing was not very 
important, so he let me go. 

The first thing I did was to gorge myself 
on a half dozen of the largest and fattest yel- 
low bananas I had ever seen. My stomach sat- 
isfied for once, I made a tour of first Balboa, 
then Panama City, for someone to cash my 
check. Even the Y. M. C. A. refused. I began 
to imagine that I looked like a crook, or some 


Two Hundred Thirty-two 







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“They done tole me not to cash no checks, sir!” 






SEA GRIST 


desperate character, to be refused at every 
turn. I could not but think how I would starve 
if it were not for the ship. At last I came to 
an American syndicate, not far from the lower 
Plaza. Apparently there was no one there but 
a negro boy. I entered, and seeing the name 
of the manager on his desk, inquired if he was 
in. He was not. 

“How soon before Mr. Hubbard will be 
in?” I asked. 

“Oh! n’bout an hour,” the boy said, roll- 
ing his eyes at me inquiringly. 

“I wanted Mr. Hubbard to cash a check 
for me,” I told him, “but I am leaving right 
away. Do you suppose you could do it for 
me?” I handed him the check, which was 
perfectly good. 

“Do you want the money now?” he asked 
me. 

“No, ril wait a few minutes and see if any 
other members of the firm come in.” I waited 
for a few minutes, thinking it would impress 
him more favorably, then. 

“I guess you’d better give me the money. 
I won’t be able to wait any longer.” 

“I don’t think I’d better cash this, sir,” 
he said, scratching his head, on second 


Two Hundred Thirty-three 


SEA GRIST 


thoughts. “When I come tu think about it, 
they done tole me not to cash no checks.” 

“But Fm leaving right away,” I insisted, 
“and have to have the money.” It was no use 
as he was “sot” and might lose his job if he 
cashed it. I knew very well that the manager 
would not cash it if he were there, as he would 
not know me from Adam. However, if I could 
only get the boy to do it. I knew perfectly well 
they would be running no risk, so did not feel 
guilty in the least. Curses! Why had I 
wanted to stall when he was ready to cash my 
check for me. I walked out without another 
word, thoroughly disgusted with myself. All 
my efforts had been to no avail, so I made plans 
for my lonely dollar, or rather what remained 
of it. 

I entered a typical Spanish barber shop 
which boasted a sign “English spoken,” and 
climbed into one of the empty chairs. I had 
had my head shaved shortly after leaving Ant- 
werp. The hair began to grow out nicely and 
I was in hopes it would be fully grown out by 
the time we reached ’Pedro. “Don’t cut off 
any on top,” I told him. “Just trim up the 
sides a bit. I would like to have my neck 
shaved, too.” He just nodded and went about 


Two Hundred Thirty-four 


SEA GRIST 


it in a very businesslike manner. The first 
thing I realized was that he had run the clip- 
pers over my entire head. 

“Hablo Usted Ingless?” I asked him, an- 
grily. 

‘'No sabe Ingless,’’ was his only excuse, 
and that was the last word I could get out of 
him. I could not discover words to tell him 
of his mistake, so settled back in the chair and 
saw the thing through. He had given me a 
typical Cholo haircut and had even left a bang 
in front which was supposed to be combed 
down. I was helpless, as I could not say a 
word he would understand. He took the last 
bit of my money, so I could do nothing but re- 
turn to the ship. 


Two Hundred Thirty-6ve 




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CHAPTER XI 
The Home Stretch 

^ HUGE railroad crane sided up to our en- 
gine-room skylight one morning and low- 
ered its iron claw to the floor-plates. The air 
pump had been moved on steel rollers from the 
port side to the high pressure engine, which 
was directly beneath the sky opening. The 
great hook grappled the sling about the pump, 
and by means of block and tackles it cleared 
the engine and swung suspended in mid-air 
over the engineer’s platform. The pump 
weighed several tons and if it had dropped it 
would have passed through the bilges and into 
the sea. 

The fire-room was unrecognizable, as it 
was piled high with old brick from the fire- 
boxes. Many negro helpers and their foremen 
did the work, which confined the Black Gang 
to the engine-room entirely. The First was 
everywhere at once, seeing that no one loafed 
on the job. Some were shining the brass work 


Two Hundred Thirty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


on the high pressure engine. It did the work 
of an auxiliary boiler and looked similar to a 
locomotive boiler, only its body was divided 
into four areas by strips of soft brass which 
circled the drum. The strips are held in place 
by brass screws at two inch intervals, which 
were indeed hard to clean. The smallest piece 
of brass, even to the caps on the valve handles, 
was shined. 

Jim and I had a bucket of red enamel 
and were painting all of the pumps, while Bill 
was perched on top of the turbine painting it 
a cream color. The engine-room took on a 
new appearance entirely. It was either a red, 
white, black or cream color. The combination 
went very well and the First seemed much 
pleased. Looking down into the engine-room 
from above it almost dazzled one. We had 
put a high powered globe in every socket and 
at night the place was illuminated like a palace. 
We were intensely interested in our work and 
did not realize where all the time went. We 
took advantage of our time in port by shining 
the floor-plates until they appeared like mir- 
rors; even the Chief took time to notice the im- 
provements and praised us. 


Two Hundred Thirty-eight 


The former Second Assistant found a very 
fine job ashore before we pulled out, and 
handed in his time. It was from him that Bill 
and I got enough money to visit the club almost 
every evening. Dan, who had formerly been 
an oiler and held a Third’s ticket, was pro- 
moted to Third Assistant. The Chief took on 
a new oiler from ashore, and by the time he 
had been broken in we were ready to sail. The 
air pump had been re-installed and the brick- 
work in the firebox had been completed. Sev- 
eral stacks of bricks had to be hauled to the 
top side, and we three wipers were duly elected. 

The Gang had a great deal of sport with 
Dan as he had been transferred from the petty 
officer’s mess to the officer’s mess forward. He 
also rated a stateroom of his own. Each night 
when he came off watch for the evening meal, 
he would wash carefully and put on a collar 
before eating with his very particular fellow 
officers. It must have been a terrible bore to 
go to all that trouble three times a day. 

Late in the afternoon of our twelfth day in 
Balboa the lines were cast off and the telegraph 
sounded half astern. We were now about to 
complete the last leg of our journey and we 
were not a bit sorry. We had several days 


Two Hundred Thirty-nii 


SEA GRIST 


ahead of us jotted down as hard labor. Hun- 
dreds of old bricks had to be hauled to the top 
side through the fire-room ventilator by means 
of a rope and pulley. I stood in the fidley and 
hauled the bricks up in pails, dumping them 
over the side, while Jim stood below and filled 
the pails. It was a long haul to the top and my 
back frequently became tired. Looking down 
through the ventilator I could see the heads 
of little men on scarcely no bodies, bobbing 
about here and there inside of my range of 
vision. Jim and I took turn about, and in this 
way had the fire-room cleared in three days. 

According to the First’s promise, we could 
take it easy now, but it seemed there was al- 
ways something important to be done that 
necessitated much hurrying. Occasionally 
Bill and I would see an opportunity to get into 
the shaft alley unnoticed, and finding a com- 
fortable spot would go to sleep. If we talked 
it was drowned by the twisting screw just out- 
side and the noisy leaking of the sea into the 
bilges through the last shaft bearing. The 
engine-room thermometer registered 142 de- 
grees so we were very glad to escape the heat, 
if only for a few minutes. Bill was now store- 
keeper, so he had occasion to visit the shaft al- 


Two Hundred Forty 


SEA GRIST 


ley. When the First found us out and probed 
me for an excuse, I had none. Consequently, 
I was given enough work in the engine-room to 
keep me exceedingly busy. 

When off duty I spent my spare time in 
learning how to fire. Mike and Hal, while not 
very flowery in their explanation of things, got 
the idea through my head somehow. The first 
thing a fireman does when he goes on watch 
is to see that the fireman and water-tender go- 
ing off watch have left everything right. He 
then takes four clean burners off the rack and 
lays one in front of each fire on his boiler. 
Each of the three firemen has a boiler, and each 
changes his burners at every watch. The oil is 
turned off, the dirty burner is pulled out, and 
the clean one put in. The four dirty burners 
are blown clean with a high steam pressure at- 
tachment at the end of the fire-room. Next 
the burners are taken apart and cleaned in 
pearl oil, and when wiped clean of carbon and 
put together, they are placed on the rack for 
the next watch. After the strainers are switched 
over the fireman has nothing to do on the rest 
of his four-hour watch but sit down and watch 
his steam gauges. The actual work of each 


Two Hundred Forty-< 


SEA GRIST 


watch does not take longer than fifty minutes 
for one experienced at it. 

One Sunday morning I stood Hal’s watch 
and went through the entire process without 
any help. The amount of steam is registered 
in the Chief’s cabin automatically by a graph 
tape, and he knows at all times just what each 
fireman is doing. The needle should not vary 
more than a pound either way. It was going 
up fast, so I applied the wrench in order to 
knock it down; not being accustomed to the 
thing, I turned it too far and the needle lowered 
three pounds. I turned it up again, this time 
being very careful, but it did not raise a bit; 
when I turned it more it raised two pounds too 
much. This made the graph in the Chief’s 
room go zig-zag. Sometimes a fireman would 
go a whole watch without so much as touching 
his steam, and I had been on watch an hour 
and had applied the wrench several times. It 
was not long before we saw through the three 
gratings above that the Chief was looking 
down upon us. He shook his fingerless fist 
at us angrily: “Damn you, watch that steam,” 
then disappeared. 

It seemed that the heat in the engine-room 
grew steadily worse each day. The dynamo 


Two Hundred Forty-t 


platform registered 157 degrees, and when the 
watch came below they hurried by at a great 
speed, wearing gloves to protect themselves 
from the hot railings. Jim, in his haste, had 
neglected to paint the ceiling over the dynamos 
during our competitive race in Antwerp. He 
was busy with other necessary work at the 
time, and as the First wished it done before we 
reached our home port, he smiled upon me. It 
would take about two hours of steady paint- 
ing to finish it, but one could not stay there 
more than a few minutes at one time. Much 
to my surprise and relief I discovered a small 
camouflaged ventilator between the two dyna- 
mos, which gave forth cool air by breaths. By 
standing under it and painting I could stay 
at least twenty minutes. The Third on watch 
marveled at my extraordinary endurance. 

The auxiliary dynamo was already out of 
commission, so when one stray drop of paint 
fell on the whirring brushes of the other, the 
contact became less and less, until it stopped, 
all lights going out with it. I had done it un- 
consciously, so was not aware of the cause of 
the trouble. The Chief came running below 
cursing as he burned his fat hands on the hot 
railings. He had forgotten about the heat, and 


Two Hundred Forty-three 


not being used to it he hastily retraced his steps 
to get the First. After the lights had gone out 
I hurried to get lanterns for the fire-room, as it 
was dark in there even in broad daylight. The 
safety of the ship hung on a balance: if the 
water-tender could not see the amount of water 
in the boilers and it ran too low, we were quite 
apt to blow up. I felt faint after my exertions, 
so hastened to the top side in order that I 
might get a breath of clean air. 

I was immediately discovered by the Chief, 
and sent below again to get the Deck En- 
gineer. It was too hot to work on the dynamo 
platform so we were forced to rig up a con- 
trivance quite similar to a windsail. Stretching 
a piece of canvas “V’' shaped to the breeze on 
the top deck, we were able to convey sufficient 
air to enable the Chief, the First, and Sparks 
(wireless operator), to work there for five 
minutes. Bill and Jim were out of sight so I 
was the goat, running after all tools and sup- 
plies. We were all stripped to our dungarees 
and shoes, the intense heat causing beads of 
perspiration as big as a dime to come on our 
bodies. Fortunately for us Sparks was a good 
electrician and very soon discovered the trou- 
ble. The fields on the auxiliary had lost their 


Two Hundred Forty-four 


SEA GRIST 


magnetism and the other needed a thorough 
cleaning, which we immediately set about to 
give it. After working five minutes we would 
rest on deck for fifteen, and in this manner it 
took us the entire morning to finish. 

After the lights came on once more the 
Chief ordered the cook to mix up a syrup, 
which he poured into the ice machine. In a 
short time we had delicious blackberry ice, 
enough for several helpings apiece. During 
the whole trip ice water had been kept in the 
fire-room and we were allowed to help our- 
selves whenever we felt the need, which was 
often. A large chunk of ice was carried below 
twice every watch, and at the end of every 
watch the ice, as well as three or four gallons 
of water, had disappeared. 

One evening I had been writing a letter, 
when I noticed that the date was October 3 1 . 
It was Halloween and no one had thought a 
thing about it. I cautioned Bill and Jim to 
keep a sharp lookout for pranks of some sort, 
but everyone seemed quite indisposed that 
night. 

“What’ll we do?” asked Jim, looking at 
Bill and me, “We’ve got to celebrate some 
way.” 


Two Hundred Forty-five 


SEA GRIST 


The First was still on watch, so we sneaked 
into the bunker when his back was turned and 
began to paw over a big assortment of rags. 
We thought of dressing Jim up in part of a 
convict suit that we found, but it was so small 
that he could scarcely get into it. At length 
we discovered a flowing dress peppered with 
green and white squares that filled the bill ex- 
actly. We stuffed the proper places with pil- 
lows and after almost a futile search we found 
a hat to match. A green veil hung around its 
broad brim, covering bis dark features and 
making him look like a woman of state. We 
laughed until we almost cried at the sight of 
him. 

We crept below carefully while the 
First’s back was still turned. Bill’s shoulder 
supported a mop and mine a broom, and with 
Jim in the lead we marched by him whistling 
loudly. We were soon joined by the fireman 
on watch, who instigated the lock-step. The 
First did not know what to make of it at first, 
but stood there at the throttle with a thoughtful 
expression on his face, which soon turned into 
a grin. To our surprise he joined our forces, 
until the Chief hearing the noise above that of 
the turbine looked down at us from the top 


Two Hundred Forty-gix 


SEA GRIST 


grating. The First resumed his position at the 
throttle, wearing an innocent look, and from 
where we stood we could see the Chief had a 
wide smile on his face. After the fun was over 
and still feeling unusually full of pep, I con- 
fined my energy to the pen, which wrote the 
following : 

BLUE DEATH 

The lightning flashed, the thunder roared. 

And all was dark for the time ; 

Each man by the station stood. 

Three ready with the line. 

With each bright flash a shape we saw ; 

Tossed helpless in death’s arms 
A dark-eyed girl, gray with cold 
And frightened with alarm. 

Each crested wave, it bore her far. 

And farther from the ship; 

All hands mute and helpless stood. 

Heard echo the faint scream from her lips. 

“The line! The line!” she cried in vain. 

But the distance was too great; 

The spar supporting undone came. 

Resigned herself to fate, cruel fate! 


Two Hundred Forty-seven 


SEA GRIST 


We were now passing the Gulf of Lower 
California and it was gradually getting cooler. 
The heavy tropical air had disappeared alto- 
gether, leaving a fresh sea breeze from the 
west. We were forever anticipating by the 
Shaft Alley Wireless; we should reach ’Pedro 
in less than four days. It seemed fully a year 
since we had left so hurriedly and so thought- 
lessly. As the saying goes, time is a great 
healer, and indeed our rash feelings of the 
months previous had been healed. We had 
an insight on life that could be acquired in no 
other possible way; our views had in many 
cases been exactly reversed. To be sure we 
were not hardened veterans of the sea as yet, 
and we never expected to be, but we had seen 
just enough of the life to know what it is in the 
true sense, and hoped to profit by the ex- 
perience. 

One morning Bill tried his hand at en- 
gineering and stopped the ship as a result. He 
had climbed up behind the engineer’s platform 
and was shining the brass on the revolution 
counter, which is run by a spiral gear to the 
turbine, registering the number of times that 
it turns over. In some way his rag became 
fastened around the shaft and it began to work 


Two Hundred Forty-eight 


slowly toward the gear. He made frantic ef- 
forts to unwind it, but could work no faster 
than the gear went around. If he slowed down, 
the rag would wind up that much far- 
ther to the gear. There was no danger except 
that it would ruin the gear, and perhaps the 
revolution counter. The First happened to be 
below by chance and seeing Bill’s plight 
rushed to the throttle and with a few quick 
turns stoped the turbine. The Chief, ever alert 
for trouble, came rushing below with one side 
of his face shaved, and gave Bill a piece of 
his mind. After the rag had been removed the 
throttle was opened again and the First at- 
tempted to show Bill how it was done. This 
resulted in another shutdown and the Chief 
came below again, this time entirely shaved. 
He did not say a word to the First, who just 
glared at him. The Chief did not stop to glare 
back, but hurried up the ladder toward safety. 

By all indications we would not put in at 
’Pedro as we were taking the farthest route 
from the Coast. At eleven o’clock one evening 
we sat up vainly trying to get a glimpse of 
Santa Catalina Island, but we were so far west 
of it that the Mate had to pick up the island 
light by means of the glasses. It was certain 


Two Hundred Forty-nii 


SEA GRIST 


now that we would not put in at Tedro, so we 
disappointedly set the time forward a few 
days. Here the atmosphere was actually chilly, 
a severe contrast to the Panama weather. 
When we rose early the next mornng to watch 
the faraway coast, we were surprised at the 
low temperature. It seemed that we could not 
find clothing sufficiently warm to keep our 
teeth from chattering. We were so near the 
end of our prolonged trip now that the men 
had cast all fears of a breakdown to one side. 
They had practically forgotten the hardships 
of only a few days before in their anxiety to 
land once again and spend the balance of their 
hard-earned wages. Several of the men cau- 
tioned Bill and me not to make another trip to 
sea unless we intended to make it a life work. 
The sea life becomes fascinating and grows on 
one to such an extent after the first or second 
trip, that it is hard to shake off. They gave us 
good sound advice in that regard and we re- 
spected them for it. 

On the second afternoon out from Catalina 
Island the rugged coast disclosed a few tall 
buildings and spires, hardly visible to the 
naked eye. Their lower parts seemed to be 
folded within a dark cloud, which was really 


Two Hundred Fifty 


SEA GRIST 


a low black mountain. Having taken such a 
westerly route it took two hours of straight 
sailing before the great Golden Gate yawned 
before us. The spires and tall buildings, 
though still somewhat obscured by the moun- 
tain, became suddenly clear as we passed the 
rocky portals into the bay. 

It was one of those windy days so charac- 
teristic of San Francisco. White fleecy clouds 
scudded across the bare sky, casting shadows 
wherever they passed before the declining sun. 
The sea ran fairly high outside the Gate, but 
inside the wind seemed satisfied in only lashing 
up the foaming whitecaps. We steamed by 
the Island and very soon the clocktower of the 
Ferry Building hove in sight. Noisy tooting 
side-wheelers crossed our path a number of 
times, and we were able to catch occasional 
glimpses of real civilized people from God’s 
country. 


THE END 


Two Hundred Fifty-( 











